


Blodwyn Campervan

by Channelling_my_inner_Elton



Category: Kingsman (Movies) RPF, Rocketman (2019) RPF, Scottish Actor RPF, Welsh Actor RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Camping, Coming Out, Doggy Style, Drunkenness, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Little Britain References, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, More tags to be added, Mountain walks, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Parenthood, Parents, Picnic, Plans For The Future, Rimming, Slow Burn, Smoking, Spanking, Surrogacy, Swearing, campervan, madderton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23656129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Channelling_my_inner_Elton/pseuds/Channelling_my_inner_Elton
Summary: Taron has some time off and takes his beloved campervan on a trip down memory lane.
Relationships: Taron Egerton/Richard Madden
Comments: 31
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus/gifts).



> A camping story set in June 2020, which as I started writing in February 2020 does not contain any reference or results of Covid-19.
> 
> This is not betaed, so please excuse any mistakes.

My earliest and happiest childhood memories are of summers staying with my Nan and time spent with cousins, Aunts and of course my wonderful Mam. Money was tight growing up, so school holidays were mostly spent with relatives around Aberystwyth, while Mam went to work. However every year we were able to get away for one week. We would stay in a caravan that was owned by a distant family member, only an hour away from Aber, down the coast near Cardigan, but it seemed like a world away. 

My Mam whilst there was a different person to at home, free from the ties of work, away from the phone and calls at all hours. Once we arrived and everything was set up, clothes and food packed away, she would make us both a mug of hot sweet tea and we’d sit outside, the wind on our faces and through our hair, and drink our tea. By the last sip of her tea my Mam would look younger and happier than I had seen her since we were there the previous summer. 

The view across the field, over the sand dunes and towards the sea to the west, made for some fantastic sunsets. Colourful displays from the disappearing sun, no two days are the same. Every day we would walk down to the beach whatever the weather, August in Wales is never predictable, and often changeable. Basking under an azure blue sky, laid on towels in the sand, watching the tide slowly rise and fall. Exploring the rock pools and paddling in the shallows. Behind us dark clouds often would be forming, bringing a light shower, a heavy downpour or even hailstones. Alternatively the clouds could miss our part of the world completely, or just skim the edge of it so that cloud shadows move menacingly across the sand. 

Summer thunderstorms were great to watch, especially impressive at night, reflecting in the sea. Impossible to sleep through when your home is a tin box in a field, so Mam and I would cuddle up under an orange blanket, outside if there was no rain, to watch the lightning strike, counting until we heard the thunder clap, gauging how far away the storm was. If the rains came we would scurry inside to listen to the pounding on the roof, while we made hot chocolate to drink, because there was no point in trying to sleep until it had passed. Mam has always loved a good storm, which she says is why I am named after the Welsh for thunder. I always tease her that she could have spelt it correctly though. 

I can still remember waking up every morning to the sounds that I only ever heard during that one week a year. The large metallic kettle being filled from the water container by the sink. The pitch got higher the fuller it became. The soft hiss of the gas as it came out of the jets on the hob, the loud clicking sound of the piezo lighter, and the satisfying sound as the gas ignited. I would listen with my eyes shut while my Mam busied herself, preparing the mugs and bowls for our breakfast while the water in the kettle hissed, the bubbles growing before reaching a crescendo as boiling point is reached and the steam causing the whistle to sound, not dissimilar to a single note on a harmonica. 

Mam would join in with the kettle, humming her own tune as she started to pour the boiled water into the mugs and milk onto the coco pops, a treat only allowed whilst on holiday. This was always my cue to rush from my sleeping bag, and place the mats and spoons on the table. Breakfast was always accompanied with laughter and optimism for the day ahead. The old tinny radio would hiss and crackle and never really settle on any station, so we would make our own music, singing Motown, Bowie, Elton, songs from musicals and the occasional Disney track thrown in. Happy times I would not change for anything. 

Is it any wonder then that I jumped at the chance to buy a campervan when it was suggested to me a while ago? Having a caravan while living in London is not practical, but a campervan affords me the opportunity to get away whenever possible. Travelling distances practical for the time allotted for each trip means a variety of destinations are available, choosing small sites that only allow a maximum of five caravans or campervans, and avoiding school holiday times usually allows for anonymity too. There have only been a couple of times where my simple disguise of casual clothes and a baseball cap has not fooled my fellow campers. Luckily the sort of people that frequent those places are friendly and understanding of my desire to stay under the radar. 

A rare gap in my normally hectic schedule has allowed me the opportunity to go further for this trip, so I am taking advantage by visiting places, many of which I have not been to since my childhood. Having arrived on Anglesey, the small island off North Wales where I went to primary school, I have parked up the campervan facing west where I can see a small amount of sea in the distance. The large flat field has one caravan in the far corner, in the adjacent field several sheep are watching me intently as I finish the outside jobs. Electricity cable, water containers and gas bottle all connected, I place my chair in a sunny spot before going back inside. The fridge switched from battery to electric power, I rummage in the cupboard. I could use a low powered electric kettle, but prefer to reminisce every time I want a cuppa, insisting that gas heated water is somehow better. I managed to find one as close as I could to that which Mam and I used all those years ago, in a junk shop in Sussex. It has polished-up well, and does the job, however it’s whistle is half an octave out. 

While the water is boiling I return to the cupboard above the worktop to get all the items needed for my tea. Whilst driving down winding country lanes the contents have all shifted, they will need a proper sort out but for now I have only one task on my mind. The humm of the kettle is the exact note at the beginning of Crocodile Rock, why had I not noticed that before? Naturally I start singing along, pouring water into the teabag in my mug. The spoon stirring joins me in the lalalas, bag removed, splash of milk, finally the indulgence of a spoon of sugar. One final stir before I grab my mug and step outside to enjoy the last of the afternoon sun. 

With shadows lengthening, the whispiness of the clouds are promising to make for a spectacular sunset in an hour or so. I lean back in my chair, wrap my hands around my mug of hot sweet tea, suddenly I’m 8 again with my Mam in Cardigan at the start of our yearly week long adventure. It’s only now I realise that I have picked out my ‘Keep Calm and Love Colin Firth’ mug. I had been wondering where this got to, having not seen it at home for several months. I smile to myself remembering when Colin gave me this, and all the great times we had making both Kingsman films. Eggsy and Harry get to finish their story soon, while I’ll be sad to say goodbye to them both I can’t wait to start back. Eggsy will always be special to me, and I will be proud to play him one last time. 

As I take the last mouthful of my tea, extra sweet from the sugar that did not quite dissolve, my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. Guessing who is calling I answer without looking at the screen. 

“Prynhawn da Boyo” a gruff Scouse accent comes down the phone. Despite living in Wales on and off for 25 years only the most basic of Welsh phrases have stuck with my father. And mostly only to tease me with. 

“Prynhawn da Dad” I answer cheerfully.”I’m all set up and about to watch a magnificent sunset.” The sun is getting close to the horizon and the clouds are a beautiful shade of pink. “When are you getting here?”

“I’m crawling in roadworks at the moment, but the sat nav says 35 minutes.” Dad is always running late, so for years I’ve made adjustments to allow for this. Mam admitted she always did this too, for his weekly visit, adding 30 minutes to the time he said he would arrive before telling me. 

“That’s OK dad, See you soon” I end the call, realising that I got distracted from setting up the BBQ by the sky, that now has turned a shade of fuschia that reminds me of Elton. I grab a beer from the fridge inside, and return to my chair to watch the sun finally dip below the horizon.

Dad pulls up alongside the campervan as I connect the gas bottle to the BBQ. The last of the light in the sky is fading, so I turn on the exterior light. I grab a couple of beers, the meat from the fridge and shut the campervan door to minimise bugs entering. 

I’m met with a powerful cwtch from my Dad and his hand ruffling my hair, just like he did when I was a kid. I laugh, commenting that he’s only jealous because he has so little hair nowadays. I pass him an opened beer and chink mine, exchanging “Iechyd da” as we stand by the BBQ while I light it. Once up to temperature I place the steaks on the grill while Dad gets the salad, plates and cutlery from inside. We chat about events in our lives since we last saw each other a couple of months ago, along with our upcoming schedules. 

“So Son, what did you want to see tomorrow?” Dad asks as he tucks into his juicy steak, cooked to perfection indicated by the sudden ‘chef’s kiss’ I’m blessed with across the table. 

Smiling, and thanking Jamie Oliver in my head, I respond with “Fucking spectacular steak, huh!” My heart swells as my Dad nods, a look of bliss on his face. Steak was never on the menu growing up, our only treat was a decent cut of lamb twice a year from a farmer friend of the family. “Oh tomorrow, it’s been so long since I’ve visited the island. I'd like to see what I can remember.”

“Righty-o I can work with that” plate clear, he mops up any remaining juices with a slice of bread. Dad leans back in his chair, pats his belly and stretches, a sure sign he’s full, and judging by the grin on his face, satisfied too. He drains his beer, “One more of these while we clear up, then I’ll be ready to hit the sack.” 

Suddenly tired too, the 5 hour drive took more out of me than I thought, I slap my thighs and rise from my chair. Clearing and washing up doesn’t take long, and we retire inside as a dampness is settling on all surfaces, the cloudless sky expelling any residual heat from the day. As the exterior light turns off I stare up to admire the abundance of stars only afforded to locations free of light pollution. 

Sleeping arrangements are that Dad has the fixed double bed at the back of the campervan, while I take the more challenging bed above the cab, which because of limited headroom is usually reserved for storage, or on the very odd occasion that my sisters stay with me. Lights out I settle down and check my social media for the first time since this morning and realised I have missed a selfie Richard has posted on his Instagram, showing off his toned and tanned body that I can’t resist commenting on with three fire emojis. As there is no immediate response from him I put down my phone and adjust my pillows to settle down to sleep. I can hear heavy breathing from the other bed, and assume Dad is already asleep. Just as I am dropping off my phone screen lights up with a notification of a message from Richard. 

“Go to sleep Taron!” A voice in the darkness calls sleepily, and I feel like a teenager again, hiding my phone under the covers to minimise the light it’s omitting so I can continue my conversation.

**Hello campers! How’s it going mate? How’s Dave?**

_ Dave is grumpy so need to keep this short! How come parents retain the knack of making you feel 14 with one sentence? _

**Oh, tell me about it, Ma can make me feel like I’ve been caught wanking in ma room with just a look.**

_ To be fair Dickie, she probably has just caught you wanking! Or stealing her best whisky.  _

“Taron! Sleep!” Is he sleep talking? I’m fucking 30, and this is my campervan!

_ GTG Dickie, I’ll call you once I’ve dumped the grump. Nice selfie BTW, looking hot.  _

**Oh nooo, you canny even wank, will rock the ‘van too much. Tough luck T.**

I put my phone down, bloody Madden, all this talk of wanking, but he’s right, especially on this high bed, the slightest movement is magnified. I try to put everything but sleep out of my mind. 

**Blodwyn! Good time to call?**

Fuck it’s Elton, do I dare air him? Pretend I’m asleep? A call is definitely out of the question, will have to wait until morning. Where the hell is he now, what time zone? 

_ Sorry Sharon, fucking knackered! Give me a shout tomorrow. _

I turn the phone off. Sleep takes me and I dream of being on the Rocketmans set, kissing in cupboards in kimonos. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taron goes visiting old haunts with his Dad. 
> 
> After moving campsites Richard comes to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you must go to [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus) For her support, encouragement, inspiration. Reading her stories and our daily chats have given me the confidence to try and write this, which is way out of my comfort zone. Love you C.
> 
> Also a huge thank you to [phoenix_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordwen/pseuds/phoenix_rose) for their beta on this chapter.

I wake with a start to the sound of seagulls stomping up and down the roof of the campervan — one particularly heavy footed gull that I swear is wearing wellies, while another laughs raucously at the hilarity of it all. My elevated position means I am closer to this than normal, however I can see that my Dad is still sleeping soundly. The sun has risen; I can see light at the edges of the blinds, but I have no idea of the time. I turn on my phone to discover it’s almost 6am and I have messages from Elton and Richard. 

**Is Richard with you? Do you have the sign up I sent you? E x**

I roll my eyes. Elton presented me with a sign that says, “Don’t come a-knocking if the Camper is rocking!” He insisted on seeing a photo of it up, which I took, sent and quickly hid it in a drawer in here somewhere. 

**Just had a weird message from Elton, telling me he can hear the kettle rattling from there and I’m to let you have your beauty sleep.**

Oh my days, Elton is such a tease. I decided that 6 am is too early to be awake while on holiday. Thankfully, the seagulls and their wellies seem to have buggered off elsewhere. Time to catch another hour or two before Dad starts rattling around. 

This time it’s the sound of coughing and a door shutting that wakes me. The other bed is empty, so I climb down from mine, pad across the lino floor, cold on my bare feet, and open the door. Still coughing, but with a lit cigarette in his hand, Dad is clearly nippy standing in just his PJ bottoms. He notices me looking down at him disapprovingly, has the decency to look ashamed, takes one last drag before putting it out. I know he is finding quitting hard; after so many years it will be. There’s nothing left to be said that he’s not heard already so I just hug him and squeeze his shoulder gently when he comes back inside. 

After breakfast we jump in Dad's car and drive to the famous town with a very long name. The sort of tourist trap I would normally avoid, however this is the town I grew up and went to school in. We pass houses we lived in, both my schools, the shops, library and train station. I remember it all, as well as where some of my friends had lived too. Unsure if anyone we knew from that time still lives there, we decide not to stop. We have however found that a friend of the family now owns a pub elsewhere on Anglesey and have a table booked for lunch. 

It’s great to hear Dad chatting about old times with a friend he has not seen in so long. Both in the hospitality business throughout the 90’s, they tell me stories that I was too young to know about at the time. Of customer complaints, demands and infidelities. They could write a book between them — a film studio may be interested, but all names and places will need to be changed to protect the not-so-innocent. After lunch Dad drops me back at the campsite before heading off home. It’s been great spending time with him, just the two of us. 

I sit outside my campervan alone once again, drinking tea from my Keep Colin mug. My phone buzzes impatiently in my pocket. “Sharon darling!” I answer in my campest voice, the one I only use when talking to Elton. 

“Blodwyn, how the fuck are you?” Typical Elton greeting. 

“Yeah good bruv, drinking a cuppa Rosie, not long seen the ol’ fella off.” Not sure why I’ve gone from camp to Eggsy, but going to roll with that for a bit. “Where’s ya naw, Shaz?”

“Fuck knows, Blod. It’s June so Mid-states somewhere. Too fucking hot to go outside, all the air con is a bitch on my voice. Never thought I’d be missing the fucking drizzle so much.” Elton ranting is great to listen to, it’s usually about the most mundane things. It’s best to let him get on with it, just provide active listening noises every now and then. He drones on about the ‘fucking yanks’. “So is Dickie with you?”

“Na, not ‘til tomorra.” I’m so glad I hadn’t zoned out of the conversation completely. I wasn't expecting to be asked a question so soon. “David and the boys with ya?”

“Back in Windsor for a kids party, a serious case of ‘affluenza’. Woodland-themed event with Tiffany gift bags and cake by Choccywoccydoodah.” I can hear his eyes rolling from here, but I know for a fact when it comes to Zachary and Elijah’s parties he would outshine any attempt on his tiara. Even the Royal children’s parties are in the shadow cast by a Furnish-John affair. “What’s wrong with Pass the Parcel with the prize being a tube of fucking Smarties? And party bags containing homemade cake and some plastic crap from Woolies?”

“‘sacly!” I agree, because it’s best not to argue when Elton is ranting, although I will be reminding him of this in December at the inevitable birthday extravaganza he will throw. I’m distracted suddenly when a message from Richard appears on my screen.

**How soon after dumping the grump did the campervan start rocking?**

Elton hears me laughing and asks what’s so funny. 

“Just a text from Dickie, that I’m not repeating, before you ask!” 

“Ah, in that case I’ll leave you to Lover boy. And tonight I’ll be dedicating Honky Cat to Blodwyn and Dickie.”

“Ssstop it!” I mockingly demand, shaking my head. “Have a good one Sharon, speak soon!” I end the call, smiling to myself that rants and teasing conversations with Elton ‘Fucking’ John are still very much a part of my life. I re-read Richard’s text and try to come up with a suitable response. 

_ I am very comfortable with being by myself, and unlike you Dickie, I don’t have to resort to wanking for entertainment. xxx _

**But what else is there to do in the middle of nowhere?**

_ Well, I read some books, and I read some magazines. _

_ Because living in the city ain't where it's at! _

**Hahaha. Is that right Honky Cat? Well I’ll have to shake things up tomorrow then.**

_ The change is gonna do me good! _

Richard knows when he’s beat, so his texts stop coming, allowing me to get an early night as I want to be on the road straight after breakfast. 

Welly-wearing seagulls wake me early again, but I am glad of this today as I’m keen to move on. Richard is meeting me at another small campsite on a farm in the south of Snowdonia National Park. It is the ideal location for a stroll in the foothills, and I am planning a picnic lunch with some magnificent views. I make tea in a travel mug and arrange toast and fruit in the cab so I can eat whilst driving. My music on shuffle coming through the sound system has me singing along far too loud for this early in the morning, but there is no other bugger about. A song comes on that evokes so many different memories as I sing along with Ed.

_ I'm on my way _

_ Driving at ninety down those country lanes _

_ Singing to "Tiny Dancer" _

_ And I miss the way you make me feel, and it's real _

_ We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill _

I am indeed on my way, driving down country lanes, but nineteen is more realistic than ninety, but that’s the difference between teenagers in hatchbacks in Suffolk, and being 30 driving a campervan in Wales. Sixty is maximum in this, on a motorway, going downhill. 

_ Fifteen years old and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes _

_ Running from the law through the backfields and getting drunk with my friends _

_ Had my first kiss on a Friday night, I don't reckon that I did it right _

_ But I was younger then, take me back to when _

_ We found weekend jobs, when we got paid _

_ We'd buy cheap spirits and drink them straight _

_ Me and my friends have not thrown up in so long, oh how we've grown _

_ But I can't wait to go home _

This could have been written about me and my friends in Aber, yet 300 miles away, on the opposite coast in Suffolk, Ed and his friends are doing the same, at around the same time. But that’s so for many teenagers across the UK, and beyond, especially in small towns where you had to make your own entertainment. Drunken first kisses — mine was messy with teeth, definitely not doing it right. Thank goodness for that older, more experienced girl I dated one summer; she taught me so much. But I can’t wait to go home — less than a week to go. Call it fate, or the workings of the shuffle gods but the next song up is actually Tiny Dancer. Loudly, I sing along as I drive the last few miles to the campsite. 

I’m all set up in a quiet corner of another field. Horses this time watch me intently from the next field as I connect the water and gas. Because of my early start, it’s only just gone 10am when I am sat in my chair outside, tea in my Colin mug, admiring the mountainous views surrounding me. I check my phone and find that I have no signal for calls or data, which sounds about right for mid-Wales. Although networks have started to roll out 5G, there are parts of Wales where 3G is the best you can hope for, and then only if the weather conditions are right. Broadband speeds into the hundreds are standard in most cities, but rural Wales normally can be as bad as ‘slightly better than dial up’. 

While I rant in my head about the lack of investment in the infrastructure needed to allow connectivity improvements for rural communities, I notice a brand new Jaguar entering the field. It looks totally out of place in these surroundings. I smile as it drives through a muddy puddle, gets stuck momentarily before continuing across the field, its silver paintwork looking much more brown than when it arrived. Of course this ridiculously inappropriate sports car pulls up alongside me and a flustered looking Scot opens the door, cursing loudly. I spare a thought for the elderly couple sitting outside their awning, although if they did hear, they did not react.

“Should have brought the fuckin’ Rangie!” Richard is practically shouting as he steps out of the Jag.”Sat Nav went AWOL with three miles to go, and could I call you? Could I fuck!” 

“But you’re here now, so you can relax,” I try to calm him as I go in for a hug, kissing him on the cheek. Elderly couple saw this, and are now staring. I use body language to try and lead Richard inside. “Do you want a cuppa?”

“Not got anything stronger?” He snaps back, refusing to take the hint to get out of sight. 

“Richard, it’s 10:30am!” 

“Thank you, I have a mother!” He slumps down in the chair I’ve just vacated, runs his hands through his hair, down his face, before resting his hands in his lap, breathing deeply. He pierces me with his bright blue eyes, and, reaching out his hand to rest on my arm, he whispers, ”I’m sorry!” I resist the urge to say ‘I know’, staying still until he speaks again. “Could I please have a strong coffee?”

“Sure thing Dickie, coming up,” I say brightly, going inside to put the kettle on, preparing a tray with two mugs and the cafetière with two large scoops of the strongest blend I have. From the window I can see that Richard has lit a cigarette, and is mellowing with each drag. I should have anticipated this level of agitation — to get here this early he must have left around seven, not allowing for traffic or breaks. He will not have smoked in the car, he never does. He’ll be good after the nicotine and caffeine kicks in. I’ll add a plate of biscuits on the tray for good measure. I find the tartan box of shortbread petticoats tails, the most Scottish of all biscuits (if any more proof is needed, there’s a thistle and stag adorning the packaging). 

As I step out of the campervan Richard is stubbing out the last of his cigarette on the grass. I place the tray down on the low table between the two folding chairs, place my hand on Richard's knee as I sit down. His eyes have softened, wrinkling at the corners as he smiles in that shy way he does when he is unsure of himself. 

“You’re safe now T, had my fix,” indicating the butt between his fingers, “The coffee smells amazing, oh and shortbread too. The trilogy of a healthy and nutritious breakfast!” He squeezes my hand and gives a cheeky wink.”So good to see ye, missed ye mate”

“Missed you too Dickie!“ My heart swells. It’s been months since we have seen each other, although we are in contact at least fortnightly. I pour the black coffee, and hand Richard a mug with a Welsh flag on it. Mine says ‘World’s best brother’. I remember now, getting the campervan gave me the opportunity to clear the cupboards at home of all the mismatched mugs, so that only the grownup mugs remained, the ones that were part of the dinner service. Looking at these makes me smile; being a grownup at home is tedious. 

While we drink our coffee, I tell Richard about my time with Dad, and the call with Elton yesterday. He tells me about drinks he had the other night with a mutual friend in London.

“You should come next time, it was a laugh,” Richard says as he stands up. “Need a piss, is it in there?” 

I nod. I know Richard never did the camping thing as a child. Anything ablutions related in a campervan is a cramped experience. It’s similar to the trailers on a film set, with fewer comforts and less space. But the escape it allows makes it all worthwhile. 

I take the washing up inside, and have my hands in a bowl of bubbles when Richard emerges from the bathroom. There is not quite enough room for him to pass me, so he squeezes behind and hugs me instead. 

“I’m sorry for being a dick earlier, I was so eager to get here and…” I shush him, he doesn’t need to go on.

“It’s OK, really.” I spin round so I am facing him. I continue cheekily, “Besides you can’t help it, It’s your name after all!” With that I take his face into my bubbly hands and plant a smaker of a kiss straight on his lips. I then manage to escape from his grasp and run out of the campervan. 

“TARON!” Richard shouts as he rushes outside, looking for me, bubbles dripping from his face. Chasing me around the Jag and then the campervan, he finally grabs me, dragging me to the ground beside the fence to the horse's field. 

We are both giggling like teenage girls as we lie on the grass. Richard has his hands still clenched around the belt on my jeans as he drags his body in line with mine. I look around and the only observer is the brown stallion in the field, who whinnies and trots away. When I look back at Richard he is staring at me intently, his eyes the colour of the clear summer sky. I wipe the last of the bubbles from his face. Thoughts I have been trying to ignore for so many months are once again presenting themselves inside my brain, demanding my attention. Thoughts of how soft Richard’s fluffy pillow lips were when I, as Elton, kissed them on the set of Rocketman. I look at these now and the desire is overwhelming.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taron needs to make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was torn on if this should be a platonic or romantic Madderton story, I came to the decision at the same time as Taron did in this story. I hope you enjoy the way we took.

“We should get ready for our walk,” I declare, breaking the spell we were both under. Too intense to deal with now, I panic. I have a picnic to pack, we need to look at the maps, plan out the route, get to the car park before it gets too busy. Oh shit, where did I put my Timberlands? 

“Taron,” Richard’s voice is soft, dripping in Scottishness. “Relax mate, plenty of time.” I'm not sure if he means that the walk can wait, or whatever almost happened then; either way I am relieved by the immediate distraction. He stands, offering me a hand up and envelopes me in a hug that I never want to end. I nuzzle into his neck, the smell of coffee and tobacco mixing with his woody aftershave, and a hint of new car leather. Richard kisses me on the temple, and pulls back to look me in the eyes. “Let’s go on the picnic,” he says encouragingly, leading me back round the campervan, his arm wrapped around my shoulders. 

I go inside to start putting the food in a cool bag while Richard gets his bags from the car. I find my Timberlands and purple rucksack in the storage box under the bed. I change out of my jeans into some soft grey jersey shorts, a white T-shirt and a baseball cap. I have a hoodie and waterproof in my rucksack in case the weather changes. Richard has also changed into shorts, which look great with his tanned and toned superhero legs. 

When we arrive at the car park at the start of the trail I’ve chosen for today’s walk it is still only half full. We manage to unpack the Jag without being recognised and set off down a path with very few other people on it. Richard regales me with stories of his time on Marvel sets, telling me about his costars and the crew. It sounds lots of fun, but not the riot we had on Rocketman two years ago. 

Every so often, when there is no one else around, I feel Richard's hand brush mine, or he’ll put his arm around my shoulders. Each touch feels like electricity pulsing through me, the anticipation making every part of me tingle. We’ve had some sort of chemistry since the day we met, at Abbey Road all those months ago, but this is something different.

We find a place to stop, off the path with stunning views of the mountains. I spread out a tartan rug on the ground and organise the repast I have prepared. We sit and feed each other falafel, just like in the carpool karaoke montage. There is also hummus and crudités, cheeses and the mandatory cocktail sausages and bread that all British picnics must have. 

The foliage around us affords us a little privacy, with only our heads and shoulders visible to anyone more than a few meters away. Having removed our boots, we find ourselves playing footsie, our fingers often interlinking on the rug. Our eye contact is kept to a minimum as I don’t want to get lost in those baby blues. Trying to keep the conversation between us as natural as possible, but keeping to safe subjects is not easy, especially when at one point I feel Richard’s hand on the small of my back, feather-like touches, sending all sorts of signals around my body. I lean back, my arms supporting me, staring at the sky, so clear with only the smallest wispy clouds. I close my eyes briefly and sigh, trying to suppress the urge to kiss him, feeling like we wouldn’t be able to stop at an innocent peck. When I open them again, I can’t help but glance in his direction, and find he is watching me, a look filled with what I can only describe as lust. 

“So this walk…” I hesitate before continuing, as the implications of the next sentence will change everything. “It’s another 2-3 hours that way.” I point in the direction we were headed. “Or we could just go back the way we came and be back at the campervan in what, less than 40 minutes?” I bite my bottom lip as Richard gives me that smouldering look that has fired up so many viewers of shows like Bodyguard, Medici and even Ibiza—oh my, that hot tub scene.

“Well, those views are very tempting…” He looks at the mountains in the distance. “but the campervan has a certain appeal.” He arches an eyebrow and gives a cheeky grin, his eyes crinkle beautifully. My tummy flips at the thoughts of what may happen when we get back—behind the locked door. “However,” he’s continuing, what the hell? “There is no rush, we have waited this long, Taron, another three hours will not matter.” He’s right, of course he is, but I feel a little sick from the roller coaster of the past few minutes. 

We pack up the picnic, put our boots back on, and continue on our walk, albeit at a slightly faster pace. Richard tries to keep the conversation light, but I am feeling like a

teenager not able to talk to a crush without being flustered. We’ve been flirty plenty of times, but mostly through social media or messages, hardly ever in person. The occasional contact is driving me wild, while the loss of it makes me long for more. 

A viewpoint—with a panoramic vista of Snowden and surrounding mountains— is the perfect place to stop for a selfie together, which we send to our mothers with the caption ‘Stunning views!’. My Mam is first to respond with, ‘and Snowden’s OK too!’ I wonder now how she would react to what could become of Richard and I—unsure what that will be, or if I am overthinking everything right now. Mam has always been supportive of any relationship, and it would make no difference if that happened to be with a man. Besides, she has always loved Richard, and has teased me many times. Pat is slower to respond to the photo but replies with ‘Aye, not bad Little Dick.’ I smile at this—how could I have forgotten her nickname for her son? Richard is trying to act miffed that this has come up again, but I know he doesn’t care really. 

I also take a lone selfie, for possible posting to Instagram, but not to post before we've left the area. I have learnt from previous experience, it’s not a good idea to still be in an identifiable place once the photo is released to the world. It’s unlikely for there to be paps in this neck of the woods, but anyone with a phone is a potential pap these days. 

Once we are sitting in the Jag—finally in a semi-private space—Richard puts his hand over mine. I’m breathless, and not just from the walk. I’m also shaking a little. He looks at me concerned, his long fingers stroking the back of my hand softly. I smile shyly at him, trying to rationalise the feelings in my head, too nervous to voice these out loud. My biggest fear is ruining our friendship. Richard starts the car and we drive the short distance back to the site in silence. 

As soon as we are safely behind the locked door of the campervan, the blinds thankfully still down, Richard pushes me against the door and kisses me roughly, his stubble grazing against my jaw and lips—two years’ worth of desire rolled into one kiss. We’ve kissed before, but never like this without a camera on us. I keep expecting to hear Dexter shout, ‘cut’. When the kiss does end, we stand with our foreheads together, breathing deeply. Richard’s arms over my shoulders, his hands rubbing my neck and hairline—sending shivers down my spine—while my hands rest on his hips, my thumbs tucked into his waistband. 

“Taron,” Richard utters my name in the sexiest Scottish brogue I have ever heard—like the dial that controls his accent has been turned up to 11—how is it even possible that those two syllables I’ve heard so many times in my life are affecting me some much now. Realising he is talking again, I try to focus on the words, watching his lips. ”Earth to Taron. Aye, there ye are.” I smile at his pink, extra-fluffy pillow lips, wanting to kiss them some more. Before he gets to speak I thrust my lips onto his, my tongue demanding entry, while I use my weight to push him back, guiding him from the hips, until his legs are against the bed. 

“Taron, listen to me,” Richard says forcefully, placing his hands on my cheeks, making me look into his icy blue eyes. “I need you to tell me, what do you want?” His face is kind but serious as he spins me round and makes me sit on the bed while he kneels in front of me. 

Suddenly I’m like a nervous teenager, feeling I'm in way over my head. It is time to be honest with Richard, to let him know all my thoughts and fears. This could take a while, and he can’t be crouched on the floor while I talk. I stand and lead him to the seating area, grabbing two beers from the fridge on the way. 

“Dickie, I don’t know what I want, but I do know I want you to help me to discover what I desire.” I take a deep breath, hoping that made some sort of sense. ”I’m sure you are aware that… very soon after we met, I developed, ya know, very strong feelings for you, unlike I’ve ever experienced before, certainty not since those bonds I formed as a teenager. But this was totally new, and ya know how I become so attached to my co-stars, and, ya know, as much as I love Colin and Hugh, with you it was so so different, so much more than the awe and respect I have for them.” I take a swig on my beer, suddenly feeling parched. I rub my neck nervously, aware that I’m rambling. 

“And then there was the on/off relationship I was in, confusing the hell out of me, pulling me in a direction that was not me, and the longer it went on the more was expected for us to become more. I’m bumbling, sorry. Me, right, what do I want?” I take another swig, “What I really want is for our friendship to not be affected, because that is the most important thing to me right now. I know the relationship ideal is for your lover to also be your best friend, and that there are no guarantees in life or love, but I am ready to take that leap of faith in us, Richard ‘Little Dick’ Madden, but I’ve seen it and it certainly ain’t little, so please be gentle with me, because that’s gonna sting!” I give a wink as I catch my breath. 

“So, let me make sure I have this correct,” Richard grins, pretending to look confused, but he’s not fooling me. “What you want is for me to fuck you?” 

“Well, put bluntly, yes.” So very Richard to call it like it is. “Hey, Dickie, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to work out what the fuck I want.” I squirm in my seat, my feet not sure what to do next.

“‘Sokay, Duckie. Enough talking, we’ve wasted too much time, let’s do this!” Richard gets to his feet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you must go to [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus) For her support, encouragement, inspiration. Reading her stories and our daily chats have given me the confidence to try and write my first gay smut.
> 
> Also a huge thank you to [phoenix_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordwen/pseuds/phoenix_rose) for their beta on this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How things actually happened and in what order is a bit of a blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing gay porn, please leave comments at the end to let me know how I got on.

What happens next is reminiscent of the Take Me to the Pilot scene in Rocketman, with scrambling to remove clothes, our naked bodies rolling around on the bed, getting used to the sensation of being that close to one another. I bow to Richard’s experience, feeling a little like Elton would have done with John Reid that first time. I have ensured that plenty of lube is available, so all I need to do is concentrate on enjoying all these new sensations, and the techniques to help me relax. 

How things actually happened and in what order is a bit of a blur. I remember that the initial stretch was as uncomfortable as I was expecting, but Richard is a patient lover and takes things as gently and slowly as he can. Once I’m relaxed, he is inside me, the stretch around him remains constant, and I start to enjoy the feeling of fullness. Slow movement, each thrust pushing a little deeper, the sensation increasing, my climax building. Richard’s caring face watches me intently, ensuring I am enjoying his actions as much as he is. 

He holds my cock, wanking me to the same rhythm as his thrusts, until my climax hits suddenly. I cum all over his hand as my ring clenches down on his cock inside me. Soon Richard thrusts deep, his cock spilling its seed. I feel everything, the pulsating and change in temperature. The overload in sensations is mind blowing. When he removes himself from inside me, the feeling of emptiness is too much—my emotions take over and tears start to form in my eyes. 

Before I can blink back the tears, Richard notices, and his face fills with concern. He lies half over me, one hand to the side of my face, softly stroking my cheek and jawline with his thumb and forefinger—my skin is so sensitive that it tingles—until my eyes are dry and the glimmer of a smile returns to my lips. I have never felt more cherished than I do right now in Richard’s arms; I want this embrace to last forever.

I wake with a start, not realising that I had fallen asleep. It takes a moment for my mind to work out why I am lying naked in the daytime, with Richard Madden’s arm across my chest. My cock has clearly not forgotten what happened in the previous couple of hours, at least half aroused again, poised for any action or attention thrown its way. From the breathing into my neck sounding slightly heavier than normal, I assume Richard is asleep. I take the time to look at him more closely than I was able to earlier. His arms, legs and back are more muscular than two years ago—the set of Rocketman was the last time we got to spend a decent amount of time together—I’m impressed he has managed to keep some of his Marvel physique. His pert arse looks amazing and I really wish I could grab ahold of it right now. 

My tummy rumbles and I can see the clock in the cab showing that it’s just after 6. We will need to eat at some point this evening, so I am going to have to wake Richard. My restlessness makes him stir slightly, with a stretch that starts with the toes, working up the body, elongating the torso, entering the head to produce a yawn—finally if the stretcher was a cat it would be expelled through the ears. He lies back slightly, giving me a full view of his front, his chest glistening with beads of sweat, his cock standing to attention. I drag my gaze back up his body, and to his eyes that appear to be admiring my body too—nowhere near as impressive as his, but an improvement on the softness I was sporting the last time we were naked together. 

“Hey you,” I whisper softly. His blue eyes snap up to meet mine, and we both smile as arousal hits us simultaneously, mirroring actions of grabbing our own cocks. 

Richard rolls into his back, and I instinctively lie half on top of him, kissing him deeply, my hands tracing over the muscles in his chest and stomach. As I run my palm slowly up his shaft I am rewarded with a moan of desire into my mouth that makes me smile. I find the lube and apply this liberally to his cock, my hand pumping the length before I straddle Richard and place his tip at my tight hole—still moist with cum from earlier. 

I ease myself slowly down his shaft, tender from before, but I’m getting used to it, associating any discomfort with the pleasures to come. When his cock is fully inserted, my cheeks resting across Richard’s hips, I rock my pelvis to discover the sensation of different angles. I find a particularly enjoyable position, slowly rising on my knees, using the cock inside me to pleasure myself in ways I’ve never before experienced. I close my eyes to concentrate on this magnificent caress as I rise and fall on my haunches. 

When I open my eyes again I am met by a soft blue blissful gaze from Richard’s eyes, contentment oozing from every pore. I lean forward to steal a kiss from those enticing lips of his, and he takes this opportunity to slide his hands onto my arse cheeks, slapping them sporadically, encouraging me to keep the thrusts going. 

Richard kisses down my neck, lingering on the mole by my Adam’s Apple, licking and nibbling along my jawline until he discovers the spot that drives me wild. He found this during our four-hour romp on set, and I almost came in my modesty sock. Now extra hard, my cock is trapped between our stomachs—it’s getting wanked extremely effectively, the friction is delectable. I had not imagined how gratifying sex like this would be, and to share with someone this fucking sexy! I feel immensely humbled. 

I can feel my climax building, and I am grateful for the warning this time, not that I can do anything to stop, hinder or help the process, nor do I want to. I’m panting into Richard's mouth, as the orgasm hits, my cum shooting between us. My muscles spasm around his shaft and he thrusts deep a couple more times before his release is achieved. 

“Oh Taron,” Richard finally speaks, his voice husky. “Fucking amazing, my love.” My soaked cock twitches as I preen with pride at this review, my smile so wide my jaw hurts. 

He raises my hips and I gasp as he exits me, tears pricking at my eyes once more. When will I get used to the sudden emptiness, without resulting in tears? I can be such an emotional sap sometimes, I just can’t help myself, but it’s what makes me me, and I wouldn’t want to be any other way. Richard gently encourages me to lie beside him, his thumb wiping the one tear that escapes, making its way down my cheek. 

I feel the need to speak. “Thank you Dickie…for everything.” To think that three hours ago I was confused by my feelings, unsure of my needs and desires, and now I have been shown a new path that I want to explore and let Richard lead the way. “I can think of no better guide for me on this journey of discovery.”

“Aye, it’ll be a pleasure to teach you the way of the gays!” Richard eyes glint as he smiles at me, “I’m famished, what’s for grub?”

“I’ll get cleaned up,” I indicate the sticky mess on my stomach, “then I’ll tend to your belly, oh Master.”

I get off the bed, giving a little bow as I back into the small campervan bathroom. I step into the tiny shower—with the shower curtain that acts like a body bag as soon as water is added—and wash myself thoroughly. Pre and post sex showering with a partner is really sexy, but it’s never going to happen in here. To be fair, it was not a consideration when purchasing. I step out with just a towel around my waist, which Richard tries to grab on my way past the bed. I anticipated this and am too quick for him, so he enters the bathroom himself, looking somewhat defeated. 

I slip on my shorts, without boxers, my T-shirt and sliders, and go out to the car, as we forgot to bring in the picnic bags in our rush earlier. I light the oven and put in the lasagne that I prepared yesterday—I knew we would want something easy to eat tonight. I’m straightening out the bedding when I hear the shower stop, however the sound of Richard singing Honky Cat now comes from the bathroom. His voice is good, possibly even better than before, and he’s singing my parts too. 

“Trying to drink whisky,” sings Richard emerging in just his shorts,his torso glistening, and his wet hair falling in cute curls.

“From a bottle of wine,” I join in, fortuitously holding up a bottle of red at the same time. Richard checks the label, giving me the thumbs up. I resist singing the next line of the song, and as my singing partner does not continue, I announce that dinner will be served in 25 minutes. 

“I’m going out for a fag,” Richard announces, borrowing my sliders from just inside the door. 

“Not without this on you don’t!” I throw his T-shirt at him, “That old couple have seen enough already, without you flashing your pecs at them.”

He huffs but obliges me, before stepping out into the fresh evening air. I watch through the window as I prepare the side salad, before joining him outside, sitting on the step of the campervan. I only ever crave a ciggie when watching Richard smoke—how he makes such a dirty habit look so sexy I’ll never know, but then Richard makes everything sexy. I can feel arousal pooling in my groin, which I try to dismiss because we need to eat. I lick my lips, thinking about Richards’s cock and how it would feel in my mouth. ‘Fuck, Taron, stop!’ My mind is arguing with my libido, after two years of waiting, it’s like the lid on my desire has been removed and I can’t stop the pot from overflowing. 

I let out a loud sigh. Richard’s kind eyes meet mine as he snaps out of whatever deep thoughts he was having. He gets to his feet and passes me the last of the cigarette he’s been smoking. I drag hard on the end, the smoke enveloping me in a comforting hug, like an old friend, but this is the kind of toxic friend I really do not need, and besides I have someone here to give me actual hugs, ones that won’t kill me. I shake my head, pass the butt back to Richard and go back inside. He discards it and follows me, wrapping his strong arms under mine, locking his finger together in front.

“I wish I could stay like this forever,” Richard announces, nuzzling into my neck. “You are the most charming, ambitious and talented man I have ever met.” He moves us so he can see my face in the mirror; I’m blushing and squirming in his grip. “No, Duckie, you are not getting away.” He smiles looking over my shoulder, pleased I have conceded to the embrace at least. “I love how proud you are of everything you do. You should be because your performance is always exemplary. Your enthusiasm and passion shines from the screen.” 

He watches my eyes for a second as I swell from all the praise he is lavishing on me. I mouth ‘thank you’ at his reflection. “You’re so humble, it’s embarrassing,” he says. 

I raise my eyebrows at the Reid quote he’s just fed me. 

“No, Taron, it’s not a line, it’s true. You are, so very humble.” He pauses so we can both take that in, “And I think I have massaged your praise kink quite enough!” He quickly strokes the boner in my shorts to prove his point, before releasing me and walking away smiling. 

I take a deep breath, before heading to the oven to dish up dinner, while Richard pours the wine. 

The lasagne is just what we need, perfect comfort food to chat over, whilst enjoying the Italian red I had chosen especially. The fresh leafy salad is ideal as a contrast to the carbs and meat of the pasta dish. For dessert, I surprise Richard with a childhood favourite of mine that Mam and I would eat on our caravan holidays, Angel Delight, butterscotch flavour of course. He teases me for my culinary choice, but then has to admit he thoroughly enjoyed it. 

We clean up the dishes together; I wash and Richard dries—we make a good team. We open a second bottle of wine and drink it outside, watching the sunset, all the light leave the sky, and the stars come out, more than in Anglesey even, less light pollution here. While we both drink a large brandy, Richard lights one last cigarette, automatically offering me a drag. What I've drunk since the last one has made me forget the toxic hug I felt earlier. All I feel now is mellowed by the familiarity, reminded of the acceptance I felt as a teen, being part of that gang. Ed Sheeran’s lyrics fill my head again. 

_ Fifteen years old and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes. _

Richard snaps me out of these thoughts, slapping his thighs and announcing, “Bed!”

Feeling decidedly light-headed, I stumble up the steps giggling, while Richard does that loud shushing thing that you’d never do sober. I feel the need to offer to take the bed above the cab, which—apart from how precarious it would be, me trying to climb up there—is ridiculous given that we’ve fucked twice already today, and I want nothing more than to sleep in his arms. Thankfully Richard is in agreement that would be unnecessary, and after taking turns to use the bathroom we climb into bed together naked. 

There is something so cosy about lying cuddled up with someone. It’s been so long since I’ve had this, and being the small spoon makes me feel protected, safe. Richard’s arms wrapped around me—his long slender fingers entwined with my less impressive digits—provide me with the comfort I have been lacking, which has been a contributing factor to my poor sleep of late. My mind wanders briefly, to scenarios for the future, before sleep takes me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you must go to [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus) For her support, encouragement, inspiration. Reading her stories and our daily chats have given me the confidence to try and write my first gay smut.
> 
> Also a huge thank you to [phoenix_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordwen/pseuds/phoenix_rose) for their beta on this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rude awakening makes Richard grumpy, but Taron smooths things over.

  
Welly boots on the roof wake me at dawn yet again. I had hoped that the distance from the sea would mean relief, but apparently my campervan is a draw to all heavy footed gulls for 50 miles. I have turned to face Richard in my sleep and I’m now watching sleepy confused blue eyes, and a gruff Scot mumbling, “What the actual fuck!?”

“I think my campervan has the gull equivalent of a helipad sign on the roof as I get this every morning.” I’m trying to be jolly about this, but Richard is clearly not impressed. 

“Remind me, why are we not staying in a hotel?” Someone has woken up grumpy. I try to decide if he needs coffee, a cigarette or a shag to mellow him. 

“If I’d booked a hotel, we would be in separate rooms, and I couldn’t do this.” I dive under the covers, kiss down his stomach and take his cock into my mouth. Despite his mood he is already semi-hard and it does not take long for it to reach full rigidity. 

I am not experienced at this, so I try what I know I like and Richard seems to appreciate it judging by the noises coming from up the bed. I take him as fully as I can, his tip hitting the back of my throat. I try not to gag, but he is so big I can’t help it. I imagine this gets easier with practice. I place my hand at the base, so I can concentrate on working on a more manageable length. While I’m sucking and licking—my tongue lapping at the tip, tasting the precum that’s seeping out—the covers are removed from over me, and Richard’s fingers are in my hair as he thrusts into my mouth. I am able to watch his face, eyes closed in concentration, mouth open, breath heavy.

“Ducky, oh yes, so close, gunna cum!” His voice is hoarse, accent thick as his finger scratches at my scalp. 

I take my hand away and once again take him as deep as I can manage. Richard’s climax peaks, his cock pumping its hot salty cum down my throat. I withdraw slightly so I can taste him, savour this moment. His eyes finally open as the last of his cum hits my tongue, and a look of adoration is bestowed upon me. 

After crawling up Richard’s body until we are face-to-face, I take his cheeks in my hands and snog him, so he can taste himself on my tongue. He moans into my mouth, clearly enjoying the experience. 

“Mmmm, well, Duckie, that was certainly worth waking up early for,” Richard says dreamily. “Your turn now, lie down.”

I obey him, raising my arse onto the pillow as instructed. Richard inserts a well lubed finger inside my hole—my muscle isn't as tight now after being fucked twice in the past 15 hours. However this long finger knows exactly the spot to press, and the sensation is amazing, I watch as Richard takes my cock into his mouth, plunging down the full length with ease. His mouth feels so warm, his tongue and cheeks moving against me provide more new sensations. I feel the stretch as a second finger is inserted, stroking my walls and prostate. I have never felt anything so intense. My eyes roll back as I try to process all the emotions I am feeling right now. 

I am not sure I know what I have done to deserve this man, and the pleasures I am experiencing. Why the fuck did I wait this long, when we both have clearly wanted this for many months? Why did I allow my insistence that I am straight cloud the fact that Richard is my perfect match? Or am I just seeing all this through rose-coloured glasses because I am on the brink of the best orgasm I’ve ever had? 

As my cum hits the back of Richard’s throat, he hums his approval, my climax heightened from this increased sensation. My muscle spasms around his fingers, and the low resonant sound I can just hear seems to be my voice. I feel my whole body reacting to the intensity of what I have just experienced, my heartbeat pounding in my chest, my breath laboured. My fingers and toes are tingling, while the muscles in my arms ache from the tension. 

Richard’s mouth purses around my length, his mouth drawing out the last of my cum onto his tongue. His fingers withdraw as he lies beside me, kisses me deeply so I can taste myself; it’s been years since that’s happened. I taste different from Richard, less salty. 

“Good?” Richard raises an eyebrow in question. 

I want to speak but can’t, so I simply nod, my eyelids heavy from the blissful feeling of euphoria. I try to smile, my breath still heavy. I slow-blink, like a cat saying, “I love you,” although as Richard is more of a dog person, he may not understand. 

“Incredible,” I finally manage. “Totally fucked!”

“Aye,” Richard agrees. “That ye are!” He winks as he gets off the bed. “Can I get ye anythin’?’”

“Water, please,” I say, no more than a whisper. 

I hear him wash his hands, before filling two glasses. When he returns, we sit propped up on pillows, next to each other, sipping a pint of water each. He looks as content as I feel, like everything in the world is aligned. 

“Sounds like those damn birds have fucked off.” He rolls his eyes dramatically upwards. “Wanna try and get some more beauty sleep? It’s still early.” 

“Beauty sleep?” I question “You saying I need it?” I strain to try and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look shagged out, understandably, and I have dark shadows under my eyes. Could do with a touch up from Lizzy. ”OK, fair point. As we have no plans until this evening, let’s try and get another hour or two.” 

“You are always beautiful to me, Duckie.” He lays me down, spooning in from behind, stroking my hair and cheek, and I feel my eyelids get heavy. 

We have a lazy day, finally getting up at 10, drinking coffee in the late morning sunshine, a light lunch al fresco. We occasionally steal kisses, but on the whole it’s much like any other time we have spent together. We chat on the phone with Mam and my sisters when they get home from school, discussing arrangements for when we are seeing them in a few days. Mari is especially excited about seeing Uncle Richard. We are non-committal on whether we will stay in the campervan in the garden or stay in the house. I suggest she just gets my room ready in case. If Mam suspects anything, she doesn’t say. 

Elton calls while we are getting ready for our evening, I put him on speakerphone. He teases for a bit before sussing out that we are indeed now doing the things he has been suggesting we should for months. 

“About fucking time, Blodwyn,” Elton laughs down the phone, “Why do you think we cast you together? Dexter, David and I have been trying to matchmake you two for so long.” 

“Dexter? Really?” 

“Yes, of course, why do you think the sex scene took four hours?” Elton is very amused to finally get to admit to this. “Dex had all he needed in half that time. He was going to call it a day and then Dickie did something that wound you up so much that Dex had to keep rolling, for the film but mostly for you, hoping you’d realise what we knew all along.”

“Did that again last night, Elton,” Richard announces proudly. “He practically exploded”

Elton makes an excited whooping noise, not dissimilar to the one I did backstage at the Troubadour. 

“Dickie, did you know about this?” I turn to Richard confused. 

“All I knew was that I needed you to realise how much I wanted you,” Richard admits anxiously, “I had no idea what that lot were trying to do.” He looks so concerned, I kiss him softly to show him nothing’s changed. 

“Dickie is clearly in love with you, Blodwyn, and I’m so glad you are finally allowing him to show you how much.” I can imagine Elton glowing with pride right now. 

“Are you?” I ask Richard quietly, suddenly nervous. 

“Yes.” Richard nods shyly, blushing cutely. 

“Hey Sharon, erm we’re gonna… have to go.” I just have to get off this call, to speak to Richard. Panic sets in and I have to clear something up quickly. “Gonna keep this low-key though, only David can know for now.”

“Don’t worry, Blodwyn, Mum’s the word. Now I’ll leave you to your evening.” Elton ends the call and we are left just looking at each other. 

“Elton’s right, ye know, I do love ye.” He wraps his arms around my waist, and hugs me so tight. “I’ve been waiting so long to say that, T!” 

“Love you too, sweetheart.” This feels so fast, but in reality we have been in love for so long, we’ve just not allowed ourselves to admit it before now. I wish we had more time to talk now—or maybe fuck—but we have a dinner reservation and I refuse to be late. “Come on, we must get ready, need to leave in 30 minutes.”

Richard emerges from the bathroom 20 minutes later smelling gorgeous, dressed in all black, not a hair out of place, his grey streak glistening. I’m wearing a blue shirt over a white T-shirt and tight black jeans. 

“I’m in serious need of a haircut,” I complain. “It’s trying to curl, look. Should have packed the straighteners.”

“Darling, stop fussing. I like it longer, with a bit of curl.” Richard says soothingly, as he runs his fingers through it, making it fluffy, but I don’t even care now because Richard said he likes it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to [phoenix_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordwen/pseuds/phoenix_rose) for their beta on this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pre birthday treat for Richard goes better than expected.

We drive in the Jag for 20 miles, and arrive at a large country house at the end of a long driveway. The house is beautiful in light-coloured stone—with turrets on each corner making it look like a sandcastle. The sun is low in the sky behind it as the concierge greets us and the valet takes the car to be parked. 

We are escorted into the dining room, to a table next to a large window looking out onto the lawn and gardens, facing west—it’s just perfect. A golden labrador called Bess fusses around our feet once we are seated, and Richard is in his element petting the dog. His smile lights up his face and my heart swells from my love for this man. 

We order a bottle of Châteauneuf du Pape, Richard’s favorite red wine, because tonight is all about him, except he doesn’t know that yet. I am so glad to finally have someone to share a good bottle of red with, as I tend to drink too much if I don’t. 

“Slàinte Mhath,” I toast, raising my glass to Richard.

“Ah T, we’re in Wales, surely that should be Iechyd da!” Richard is confused. 

“Yes this is Wales, but we are less than four hours away from a very special Scotsman's birthday.” This was the first I had mentioned it and I wonder if Richard thought I had forgotten. 

“Just because Paul McCartney sang Mull of Kintyre, doesn’t make him Scottish!” Richard smiles, rolling his eyes at me.

“Really, oh that is a shame, I got him a Dundee cake and everything.” I stick my tongue out at Richard, causing him to laugh loudly. I love his laugh, so manly. 

We both take a sip of our wine, his blue eyes watching me over his glass, before he closes them while savouring the richness of it. 

“A shame I have to drive,” he says sighing. “This wine is sooo good.” His Scottish drawl switches up a notch which I feel as arousal pools in my lap. 

_ Too soon  _ I tell myself, mentally forcing my cock to calm itself. 

“Dickie,” I murmur, taking his hand as discreetly as I can, “You can have as much as you want, sweetheart.”

“Wait, what!? You're not driving the Jag, T, on country lanes in the dark!” He looks so panicked; I know his cars are precious to him, but I’m not that bad a driver, am I? 

“Relax, no-one else is going to drive your car.” I take a deep breath before continuing, so excited to reveal my plan. “I know you aren’t really loving the whole camping experience, especially being woken too early by birds.”

“The only bird I want to wake me is your cock.” Richard smirks at the memory of this morning. 

“Well, if you're lucky that will be the only bird that wakes you tomorrow.” I’m slightly miffed at being thrown off track, but I continue, my hands gesticulating while I talk. “As I was saying, since tomorrow is your birthday I thought you would like to wake up in some luxury, so I have booked us a room here for the night.” 

Richard eyes twinkle, his face lit by the setting sun out of the window, the realisation of what I have said dawning on him. I can see a question forming on his lips, but I smile and answer before he can utter a word. 

“Overnight bag packed while you were getting ready, in the boot of the car.” I preen, polishing my knuckles on my shirt. I put on my best Hannibal Smith impression “I love it when a plan comes together!”

“Fuck T, that is so sneaky, but I love it.” Richard beams at me, clearly loving this. Thank fuck for that, I’m so done with control freaks that hate to be surprised. 

Our food arrives, a tasty feast of quality food, presented beautifully. We finish the wine and are both pleasantly full and relaxed when the waiter offers us the dessert menu. The choices all look amazing, and the magical part of the stomach that only unlocks when faced with a decision like this is accessed. The view out the window has gone, too dark now to see anything more than our own reflections.

“We need to check in,” I explain to the waiter who’s poised for our order, “Would it be possible for us to have our desserts and some drinks sent to our room?”I’m 

“Absolutely fine, sir, very good.”

Our room, in one of the turrets, is amazing. Vaulted ceiling, a multitude of huge windows, a four-poster bed, almost twice the size of the one in the campervan. The bathtub in the middle of the bathroom is big enough for two, and the shower would probably fit four. I love my campervan, but I am so looking forward to having this much space. The overnight bag has been brought in from the car. On the table, there is a cheesecake and a raspberry fool. A large vodka soda and a whisky on ice sit beside the desserts. 

“Amazing room Ducky, is this mine or yours? Because ye know...separate rooms.” A cheeky grin plays across Richard’s lips. 

“I’ll check to see if the single room is still available for  **you** , if you insist,” I say, moving to the phone beside the bed, my eyebrows raised, challenging him. 

Richard grabs my outstretched arm, his other hand immediately around the back of my neck, both pulling me into him as he thrusts his lips onto mine. Our groins automatically connect, we can feel arousal in each other, both in impossibly tight jeans; the evidence is plain to see too. 

“I think I’ll be good slumming it here, if that’s OK with you.” Richard caves in, unable to resist. ”That bath looks enticing—why don’t you go and run it and we’ll have some fun in there after dessert?”

“Mmmm, great idea, Dickie,” I say, as I retreat to the bathroom. 

While I’m alone, I manage a whispered conversation with reception, asking for a bottle of bubbly for the birthday boy. I only booked the room this morning, so it’s all been rushed and sneaky, but the staff have been great, and the room is so much better than I had hoped for considering how last minute this decision was. 

The bath full of hot water and plenty of bubbles, I’ve stripped off and put on the fluffy white towelling robe. With the second robe over my arm I leave the bathroom to find Richard, sipping his whisky, waiting patiently to start on his raspberry fool. I sit beside him and we tuck into the sweet and tartness of our desserts. I can see the temptation to open my robe playing on his fingers, but he does manage to resist. 

“Can you give me a few minutes?” Richard asks, taking his glass and his robe towards the bathroom. 

“No problem, sweetheart” I smile at him, as I finish my cheesecake. 

I start to empty the hastily packed overnight bag: just clean underwear, a T-shirt each, as well as toiletries and the card I’d got Richard. As I wrote this out a few days ago I am wondering how appropriate it is now, and consider rewriting it, but there is a knock on the door. Champers in an ice bucket, two flutes, a plate of chocolate strawberries and a vase of fresh white flowers. I can’t resist taking a photo of the display. 

I tap gently on the bathroom door before entering with the wash kit. Richard is sitting on the edge of the bath looking very sexy in his towelling robe. I’m reminded of the photo of him in Cannes having his hair done before the premiere. And just like that photo — that I may have spent too long staring at on Instagram — the belt is loosely tied, plenty of chest hair visible, one bare leg exposed, the material only just covering his dignity. His eyes draw me closer until I am almost within grabbing distance. I dispose of the bag beside the sink and step up to Richard, my legs between his, as his hands slide inside my robe. I mimic his actions, my hands snaking across his back and under the belt until we both have an arse cheek in each hand. 

“Taron,” Richard growls through gritted teeth, his grip tight on me, “Gown off and in that bath now!” He orders me, a passion burning in his eyes. 

I oblige him, a pool of white material on the floor instantly. I step into the bath, and Richard slaps my bare arse as I go. I slide into the bubbles, and water embraces me in a warm hug. I submerge my head, my eyes closed. I can hear Richard enter the water too. Due to the amount of underwater acting I’ve done I can stay like this for longer than most, but when someone gets impatient my shoulders are grabbed and I’m pulled up. We sit facing each other, his legs over mine, our balls thrust together, hard cocks twitching. He grabs hold of us both, wanking them together roughly two handed. I am so turned on by the dominance that I’ve not seen in Richard since he, as Reid, kissed me in the cupboard set—however this now is definitely all Richard and it’s so hot. 

Whilst my cock is relishing the action, the rest of my body is craving some attention. I bite down on my lip, trying to hold back, not wanting to come too soon. My breath goes heavy as the inevitable gets closer, and as the point of no return is almost on the horizon Richard stops, let’s go, all contact gone. The frustration is overwhelming—my closed eyes snap open, my breath stalls mid-pant. 

Richard is trying to keep up the dominant facade, however a smirk threatens the corners of his lips. He sees me watching and the mask is pulled on again. 

“Onto your knees, turned around!” He demands, sliding back to release my legs, water spilling over the edge behind him. 

I do as I’m told, leaning over my end of the bath, my arse just out of the water. I look over my shoulder as Richard pulls my cheeks apart, and a softness to his face as he sees my tight hole, that is finally his. A palmful of water runs down the crack as he gently washes it thoroughly. He looks up to see me watching, a tenderness in his eyes full of worship for me. 

“Are you warm enough?” says the softest voice I ever heard Richard use, concern oozing from it. I nod my head, my shoulders are now almost dry, and the room temperature just right.

Richard places his legs between mine, and slides closer to me. I can feel his breath on my cheeks. I face forward and rest my chin on my arms, crossed in front of me on the side of the bath. My cheeks spread wide, I feel his stubble first, and then Richard’s tongue lapping at my hole. The sensation is amazing, I’m tingling when he bites each cheek, before rimming me again. My hard cock is underwater, wanting to be touched again. 

A new sensation as fingers are probing my hole, pulling at the muscles there, entering me slightly as the tongue continues to rim me, then entering me also. The stubble burn, the stretch, the longing for more, but pleasurable too. 

Richard’s body drapes along my back, his breath on my neck as the tip of his cock brushes along my crack. My muscles contract trying to grab a hold. 

“Taron, owt the bath now!” The Scottish brogue so strong, my cock reacts instantly. “Aye need t’ fuck ye now, but aye wanne ye to watch me watching ye.”

Over the large double sink is a mirror, surrounded by lights like a classic dressing room. A plush bath mat marks the spot for me to stand, to afford us both the perfect view of the next act in this performance. The bottle of lube from the wash kit stands ready on the edge of the sink while Richard roughly dries us both with the large fluffy towel. I remain standing upright. Richard manoeuvres me like a mannequin so I am bent over the sink, arse thrust out, knees slightly bent, although as my legs are slightly shorter than his I suspect I'll be on my tip toes very soon. 

I watch in the mirror at Richard letting lube dribble out of the bottle onto his cock, the squelch as his hands spread it all over. A slick finger traces down my crack, and dives into my hole— the temperature change making me jump a little. Richard watches me, his eyes so much darker than normal. When my hole is stretched enough he withdraws the finger, and quickly replaces it with his cock, thrusting deep in one go. I gasp at the full sensation, even more so than at previous times—this position clearly allows for deeper penetration, and I can feel this with every part of my being. The stretch I am used to now; we have fucked enough for my ring to know what to expect. 

Richard raises up onto his toes, with his hands on my lower back, pushing me down slightly, so the angle is different again. The feeling is the same as from this morning when his finger hit on my prostate, except this time it’s the tip of his cock rubbing that sweet spot. The pleasure flowing through me at this sensation is beyond comprehension, let alone description. 

“T, darling, look at yourself, I want you to see how beautiful you are when you cum.” Richard’s voice is soft and slow as he pounds into me hard and fast. This contrast is too much for my already addled brain. 

My focus in the mirror until now had been on either Richard’s face, or the surroundings, albeit in a soft focus, like a dream. I force my eyes down to stare at myself, my hair still damp from the underwater dunking, curling slightly from being too long. My forehead and cheeks are glistening with sweat, my bottom lip swollen from the amount of time it has spent between my teeth. My eyes glint in the bright lights surrounding the mirror—they can look so different depending on what I’m wearing and my mood, but for now they are flashing much greener than normal. 

My mouth falls open as my climax approaches, my eyes closing until I hear Richard telling me to open them again. A sharp slap across my arse snaps my focus back to the room. Richard’s thrusts become harder, deeper, massaging the pleasure point inside me, making it harder for my legs to keep me supported. The sounds we are both making mix in the air, both so close, both needing our release. 

“Oh Dickie, I…” It’s a poor attempt at real words, but full sentences seem beyond my capability right now.  _ Fuck, Dickie, I love you.  _ My ability to think is still just about holding on, but the only sound I make is a low animalistic moan as my untouched cock jerks, spurting cum into the space in front of me. My ring tightens around Richard’s cock as he pumps his cum into me, pulsating and jerking until we are both spent. 

My legs finally give in, and Richard’s are not strong enough to hold us both up. His cock slips from me as we collapse into a giggling mess on the floor, embracing as we kiss each other. 

After what seems like an age of sitting on that floor, regaining our breath and strength, we manage to clean up, and emerge from the bathroom in our identical robes, hand in hand. I can’t help feeling like a couple for the first time. A small ornate clock on the mantelpiece chimes softly, indicating that it is now midnight. I squeeze the hand inside mine as I turn to Richard—losing myself for the first time of this new day in the blueness of his eyes—and wish him Happy Birthday. 

We make short work of the Champagne and strawberries before retiring to the large bed, snuggling up together under the plush bedding. Sleep comes to us both quickly, so happy, satisfied and probably a little more than tipsy, but not so much that the room is spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you must go to [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus) For her support, encouragement, inspiration. Reading her stories and our daily chats have given me the confidence to try and write my first gay smut.
> 
> Also a huge thank you to [phoenix_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordwen/pseuds/phoenix_rose) for their beta on this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up next to the birthday boy in a large four poster bed, what could be better?

I wake first, relieved that it's not because of gulls this time. Richard is making cute noises in his sleep. I just lie there and watch him for a while, wondering if he’s dreaming, and if so what about. I have no idea of the time, but I can see daylight around the edge of the curtains. I slip out of the bed as gently as I can, not wanting to wake the sleeping prince. The clock on the mantelpiece shows it’s almost seven. 

I go into the bathroom and quietly close the door, checking my hair in the mirror. It's sticking out all over the place after drying naturally, having not been brushed. I decide a shower is the best way to rectify this, however I have only packed Richard’s insanely expensive shampoo in my rush. I step into the shower, already up to temperature, and let the water wash over me. The heat and pressure relieve the tension in my neck, shoulders and back. I had not realised how knotted my muscles had become. I could really use a massage—I wonder if they have a spa in the hotel. 

I pour a generous amount of shampoo into my palm, the citrus and rosemary scents reminding me of Richard before I even start to lather up. Rubbing it into my hair I realise I’ve used too much as bubbles flow down my face and my back. I start to use these suds to clean myself too, my hands running across my chest, when I feel a body pressing up to my back. 

“Are you sure you are using enough of  _ my _ shampoo?” Richard laughs as he wraps his arms around my waist massaging the bubbles into my chest hair. 

I spin around in his arms to face him, throwing my arms over his shoulders. I kiss him as shampoo slides down my face. Richard wipes the suds off my head, and down my back, where he uses them to rub into my arse cheeks. I moan into his mouth, our cocks not hiding their arousal, rubbing together, conducting a sword fight between us.

“Good morning Birthday Boy,” I remark after reluctantly breaking the kiss. “Did I wake you?”

Richard shakes his head, “Was dreaming ‘bowt fuckin’ ye, woke up horny but ye was nae there.”

“I’m here now, Dickie,” I say, as I look down between us, checking what I already know, “and It appears I’m horny too.” I take a hold of both our cocks, pumping them a few times, before getting on my knees and taking Richard’s into my mouth. 

He already tastes salty, and the vein that runs the length of it feels so good against my tongue. Richard’s hands are on the back of my head. His nails scratch my scalp as he pulls me onto his cock, his tip hitting my tonsils and beyond. I hum against him, driving him wild, his hips thrusting as he fucks my mouth. I look up to see his chest muscles ripple and tense, his face in pained concentration and his eyes closed, long dark lashes on his cheeks. 

I work my hand up the inside of his thighs, his hairs tickling my palms. At the top I cup his balls within my right hand as my left wraps around him, resting on his arse, slowing his thrusts. 

“Duckie, need to cum, but aye wannae fuck ye,” he says breathlessly, his hand leaving my head. 

I drop his cock from my mouth leaving plenty of spit there as lube. I stand and turn, my hands on the wall as I bend over, my arse thrust out towards him. 

“Fuck me Dickie, fill me with your cock and cum,” I demand, so desperate to feel him inside me again. 

Richard places some shampoo and his dripping cock at my entrance and thrusts in deep. I flinch due to the sudden stretch, the first time without a prefinger or lube. I bite my lip until my ring gets used to this and pleasure starts to take over. A concerned kiss between my shoulders from Richard, just what I need to make me relax enough to enjoy the full sensation. 

“Stand a little higher love,” comes a whisper from Richard over my shoulder, his body draped over mine. 

He reaches round and takes my cock, slowly pumping to the same rhythm of his thrusts inside me. His grip tightens as his speed increases, his climax getting closer again. I can feel his hot breath on my neck as he pants, incomprehensible words slipping from his mouth, his accent thick and sexy. 

His right hand works its way up my body, finally grabbing my throat, his grip a pleasurable restriction that I’ve not experienced in so many years that I’ve forgotten how much I enjoyed it. Each stroke on my cock now feels twice as good than before. My body reacts by clenching tight around Richard’s cock and my imminent climax jumping up several levels. I lean into his grip as Richard’s orgasm hits him, his cock pumps hard inside me. This feeling of increased fullness, the grip on my cock and throat send my orgasm crashing over me, my cum hitting the tiles with such force. 

Cleaned up once again we lie in each other’s arms on the large four poster, curtains open so we can see the view across the gardens through the massive windows. Richard looks so content in his robe, damp curls falling forward across his forehead. I can’t help but smile as I watch him, admiring his beauty. 

“Penny for them,” Richard enquiries softly. 

“I'm just wondering how anyone can be so sexy and beautiful,” I gush, knowing exactly how Richard will hate it but I don’t care because it’s all true. 

True to form, Richard scrunches his face up, like I have seen him do in interviews when anyone compliments his looks, and when I tell him how cute he looks when he does that, he starts mumbling “Stop” over and over. 

I laugh, not unkindly, at his discomfort, taking the opportunity to straddle him, using my elbows to pin his arms to the bed, our faces close together, noses touching. 

“Richard ‘beautiful’ Madden, I am going to have you believing that is the truth if it’s the last thing I do,” I insist forcefully, enjoying every second of this. Sapphire eyes watch me intently, a shaft of morning sun falling across them as I raise my head slightly, and his pupils constrict to reveal more of that heavenly blueness. I sigh at the blessing bestowed upon me. “And your eyes are  _ Fucking spectacular _ !”

My upper hand falters slightly, and Richard takes immediate action to regain an advantage, flipping me onto my back and straddling me instead, my wrists gripped tight and restrained in the surrender position. I bite my bottom lip while he scans my face, his gaze finally resting, staring into my soul. 

“It’s you that’s ‘fucking spectacular’,” he says, managing to be even more Merlin than Mark can be sometimes. “Your eyes surprise me every time I look into them. The spectrum’s so varied, deep sea blue to moss or emerald green to milk chocolate and everything in between.” He extends his arms so he can look at me some more, his grip on my wrists still holding. “You are so sexy, your jawline, your chest — regardless of how ripped you are — I love your bread-eating body as much as the one that’s spent weeks in the gym, and every stage in between. Your thighs,” he clenches his legs around me, “are amazing and having them wrapped around my waist, draped over my shoulders or gripping on to mine is the best feeling in the world.” I flex them beneath him and he grinds against them as he bites his bottom lip. 

“But Taron, it’s your heart that is the most beautiful thing about you. So kind, passionate, loving, but most of all proud. Proud of everything you do, of who you are. This is what defines you, and what makes everyone you meet love you more.” There are tears in his eyes, and mine are pricking too, my chin dimpling at the pressure of holding back. “I love you more than I will ever be able to express, for all the reasons that everyone else loves you. But more, my love for you is so strong, so sure and so pure that I want to shout it from the rooftops, down the streets, announce it to the world.” A single tear runs along the ridge of his nose, hanging from the end for the longest time, before I plant a kiss there to remove it, its salty taste on the tip of my tongue as I go to speak, but Richard continues. “Sshush, it’s OK Ducky, if you don’t want that, that’s OK too. It does not change how I feel in any way.” 

He beams his most dazzling smile, as the tears in my eyes finally brim over, flowing down my cheeks freely. He is fully aware of the reservations I have in sharing any relationship with the world, let along a gay one, because he has felt them all too. This is 2020 and the world should get over itself and accept any declaration of love regardless of the gender of each of the participants. It should not be deemed brave of someone to come out as gay, it should be seen as normal, and really it’s nobody’s fucking business. But this is not a conversation for now, after that lovely admission from the—no  _ my— _ birthday boy. 

“I—I love you too Dickie,” is all I manage to say in no more than a whisper. His soft lips land on mine, my hands are finally released, his fingers gently cupping my face instead, wipings away my tears. 

Richard swings his legs round and nestles them between mine, his body flat against me. As he kisses me he grinds his hips so that our cocks rub against each other, arousal stiffening them with each thrust. My hands stroke his sides, grabbing his hips to encourage the thrusting, pulling at the towelling to ensure maximum skin-to-skin contact. I find myself admitting to how much I have been turned on by the towelling robe photo in Cannes, and how in private I would like him to wear just that only to allow me access to his naked body below at all times. It is not long before we're both climaxing between us, using words and friction alone. 

After yet another shower, we realise that every towel in the room is now sodden, so we really should just get dressed, eat breakfast and check out. 

That’s easier said than done. As we come out of breakfast, a large group of women arrive, a hen party, I’m guessing from their attire. They clearly recognise Richard and start excitedly chatting in Welsh about him. Thankfully, I had a baseball cap with me, so I slip it on and I keep my head down, adopting a strong scouse accent when required to speak, trying not to laugh at what they were saying about him. Thankfully they ignore me, and we manage to escape before any of them start asking for selfies. 

We make it safely back to the car, but it’s a close shave. I can’t stop giggling.

“What’s so funny? What were they saying?” Richard finally asks as we pull out of the car park. 

“The general consensus was that you are hot and sexy, but the bride-to-be didn’t see it,” I laugh. “She said Kit is way better.” I rub his knee affectionately as Richard pretends to sulk. “But personally I’d always choose you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you must go to [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus) For her support, encouragement, inspiration. Reading her stories and our daily chats have given me the confidence to try and write my first gay smut.
> 
> Also a huge thank you to [phoenix_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordwen/pseuds/phoenix_rose) for their beta on this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard’s birthday continues with mountain walks and birthday wishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. However posting it on Richard’s birthday seemed appropriate. 
> 
> Please leave comments at the end. 
> 
> A massive thank you must go to [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus) For the beta on this chapter but mostly her support, encouragement, inspiration. Please go and check out her stories, you will not be disappointed.

On the drive back towards the campsite we stop off at the same mountain car park from two days ago. Neither really dressed for hiking, but the picnic blanket is still on the back seat, so Richard pulls in and we head for the stop we made what seems like a lifetime ago. There are people around, so we keep contact to a minimum while we are walking. I place the tartan rug on the ground, the grass still crushed from our last visit. With no food to distract usage time, I lay down on my back hidden from view from all but the birds in the sky. Richard sits beside me, his hand stroking my cheek while looking out to see if anyone’s around. I place my head in his lap and look up, admiring the auburn flecks in his beard, glistening in the sun. 

“I can’t believe how things have changed in less than two days!” I muse, my fingers wrapping around the long grass beside me, picking some and twisting it around my fingers. “I’m not even sure now why I didn’t allow this sooner.”

“You weren’t ready to admit it to yourself, let alone take action on those feelings,” Richard surmises, and he’s right. When we were here last time I could have easily pushed those feelings down, like I had many times before, gone with the ‘I’m straight’ line again. But there are only so many times you can lie to yourself. 

“I—I almost didn’t,” I hesitate, not really wanting to admit it out loud.

“Shush T, it’s OK, I know,” Richard smiles kindly, “but you did allow me in, and I’m so pleased you did. I could see the conflict inside you, and I remember that exact feeling when I was denying the truth to myself. How the hate I had was eating away at me.”

“Yes, that’s it!” I’m almost shouting, relieved to have someone understand what I’ve been going through. I realise I’m not the first, and I certainly won’t be the last to have feelings like this, but to have Richard to talk to about this finally is such a relief. “It’s like a weight has been lifted!” I breathe in deeply, as if this is the first time in weeks, or months even. 

“Feels good?” 

I nod, my heart skips as I stare into the eyes of this amazing man, that makes me feel like no one ever has. “Feels fucking fantastic!” We exchange cheesy grins. “Thank you so much Dickie, for everything.”

“You're very welcome T, but this was really all you.” He wipes a tear from my cheek that I had not even realised had even formed. I push up onto my elbows, I need to kiss him. “No, stay there!” Richard instructs, smiling politely into the distance. “Just go already!” He mumbles under his breath. I freeze, watching his face for the all clear, hoping whoever they are doesn't get close enough to see me. Richard puts his phone to his ear and pretends to be talking into it, whilst looking towards the wooded area to the side of us, that runs alongside the path. “We’re gonna have to go into the woods,” he is saying softly to me, “do you think you can crawl into there unseen?”

“In my best jeans? For fuck’s sake, if I must.” I get to my knees, keeping low. 

“Stop whining, I’ll make it worth your while.” Richard taps me on the arse playfully as I start to crawl along. “I’ll bring the rug, just keep low until at least the second row of trees.” 

Crawling through the grassed area is fine, there is a trodden path to keep to so there is minimal movement in the grass. As I reach the edge of the forest the ground is covered in pine cones and needles, making the going painful—but what is love without a little pain, or at least a small amount of inconvenience. I make it to the second row of trees and sit with my back against one of them before looking back to where we were sitting. Richard has the folded rug under his arm and is strolling towards me looking back towards the path, phone still to his ear. 

“Up and still” he calls out. I do as he says, not daring to look in the direction of his gaze, but trying to stay hidden from it. 

Suddenly a large dog appears through the long grass, mostly light grey in colour with a dark face and ears. It’s heading for Richard who stops and faces it, his legs apart and slightly bent. The dog’s tail is high, wagging profusely in greeting as it runs around Richard twice before sitting at his feet. He makes a fuss of the dog as the owner calls “Bleddyn, come!” The dog returns to its owner, who calls an apology. I can see Richard loved the opportunity to pet a dog for the second time in as many days. 

“The Young Wolf’s still got it!” I tease as Richard finally approaches me. “Dickie you are so good with dogs, you should get one.”

“Aye, would love ta, but wouldn’y be fair when aye have ta work away.” He sighs wistfully. He’s right of course, Marvel will have their claws in him again soon enough, he’ll be on press tours and location wherever they see fit to send him, for weeks if not months at a time. 

“One day babe, one day.” I lean against the tree as Richard takes another step towards me, placing a hand on the trunk either side of my head. He checks around us one last time before placing the softest of kisses on my lips. “Make a wish, birthday boy,” I say smiling, thinking I may just have guessed what he’s going to say. 

“I wanna fuck you outside!” He blushes ever so slightly at this admission. 

“Called it!” I wink, I fucking knew exactly what he was thinking. “Well, maybe here and now not the best option, but leave that with me Dickie.” His face lights up at the prospect, and the fact that I am game. “Is anyone around?” I ask, checking in the dark area behind him. 

Richard shakes his head before pushing his body hard against me so I’m squashed between him and the tree, his lips crashing onto mine, tongue forcing entry. I can feel his cock pressing into my hip, already hard. I give into the kiss, but know I need to stay focused as allowing this to go too far would be a bad idea. We are just off a public footpath, on a sunny late morning in June. The thought of fucking alfresco is appealing, but this is far too public: we need to get back to the campsite. 

When we break the kiss Richard rubs his thumb over my lips, which I instinctively snap at, trying to take it into my mouth. I hear him chuckle at this as he grabs hold of my belt loops and pulls me away from the tree. He throws his arm around my shoulders and we start walking back towards the car. 

We stop in a village on the way back, to get some supplies for tonight’s dinner. The weather is going to be perfect for a BBQ, so I get some steaks, salad and dessert. 

When we arrive back at the campsite my campervan is alone in the field, the older couple having left while we were gone. The owner follows the Jag into the field on his ride-on mower, to cut the grass that he can reach due to the now empty plot. He calls over to us to check all is ok, and explains that he needs us to leave by 11am tomorrow as he is expecting a group of five caravans to arrive around noon. Mam is expecting us for lunch so this is fine with me. 

Once Trevor and his mower have left we are alone in a one acre field with only a couple of horses to witness anything we do. It is so freeing to be able to finally behave exactly as we want to. The daylight is too risky to attempt any kind of outdoor sex in such an open field, that will have to wait until dusk at least. We do however change into our shorts, and take the opportunity to laze around in the sun. 

Applying sunscreen to Richard’s back, while he lies on the picnic blanket, I admire his muscles and adoring the freckles too. When I move down to make sure his legs are also protected, I find it hard to resist running my hand up inside his shorts. When I do, I find he is wearing nothing underneath. I give his pert arse a quick squeeze, making him jump, before laying next to him on the blanket. 

“Richard, you appear to be missing your underwear, mate.” I cheekily mention, my chin resting on his elbow. 

“Like you’ve never been known to go commando at any opportunity, Egerton!” He retorts. “In fact, if I was to whip your shorts down right now, I bet your cute white arse would be bare to the world.”

“White arse? Pot calling the kettle black my Scottish boy!” I reply cheekily “Also I think you’d get very short odds on that bet babe.” I smile and steal a kiss before passing over the bottle of sunscreen while I lie on my front, my chin resting on my hands, just as Richard had been. 

Richard applies a large amount of lotion to my back and sets about working it into my skin—giving me the massage I was craving in the shower earlier. I close my eyes and find myself imagining we are on a private beach somewhere exotic, rather than a field in mid Wales. However anywhere I am with Richard is the best place in the world for me right now. 

The tune to ‘Your Song’ starts to play in my head, my hands splay out in front of me, fingering the notes on the tartan blanket beneath them. As the song progresses, I find it hard to keep it inside my head, the tune is the first to be externalised as I start to hum the second verse. I can no longer feel Richard’s hands on me, but I can sense his presence beside me even with my eyes closed. I turn on my side to face him and open my eyes as I start to sing Bernie’s amazing poetry. 

“But the sun’s been quite kind, while I wrote this song.” I sing as I look up into Richard’s adoring eyes, his smile lights up his face as I continue. “It’s for people like you that keep it turned on.”

I sit up and hold Richard’s hands, my thumbs stroking the back softly. My eyes search his, all I see is love, acceptance and desire. 

“Excuse me forgetting, but these things, I do. You see I’ve forgotten, though they are clearly blue.” I paraphrase, Richard’s stunning Frank Sinatra eyes could never be forgotten or confused. 

“Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean.” This line, ugh, shows such innocence, Bernie is a genius. I realise I’m acting this out, even now, 13 years after that audition. And again two days ago when I finally allowed myself to admit to Richard what I really feel. 

“Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.” I lean forward and kiss Richard softly on the forehead. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down into words.” Deep breath as a single tear falls. “How wonderful life is while you’re in the world” 

“I’ll never get bored of that song, or hearing you sing it, T.” Richard gushes, a huge grin on his face, and a hint of a tear in the crease of his left eye. 

“Happy birthday, you gorgeous man.” I say as I get to my feet. “I’ll get us a drink, you call your Ma and Pa.”

I busy myself in the campervan while Richard chats to his parents, I can see him panning around showing them the views. I grab two beers from the fridge and take them back outside. Keeping out of view of the camera, I sit down beside Richard while he finishes his chat with his Ma. Just as he is about to say goodbye he looks over at me, swings his arm across my shoulders and pulls me into shot. 

“Hi Pat,” I call out, “I’m looking after the birthday boy.” I wave the bottle in view of the camera.”How’s summer treating you?”

“Aye, it’s not too hot here, which suits me.” Pat’s smile beams from the screen, so reminiscent of her son’s. “Taron, make sure Little Dick doesnae get too much sun.”

“Ma, stop fussing.” Richard’s face flushes to the roots of his hair. 

“He is looking a bit pink now.” I can’t help but chuckle. “I’ll move him to the shade now, Mrs M.” 

Richard moves away so he can finish the call quickly without his Ma and I embarrassing him anymore. “Love to Pa when he gets back. Love you, Ma.”

Richard takes his beer from me and turns his back, pretending to be annoyed. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press myself as close as I can into his back. I kiss down his neck and across his shoulder blades, nibbling every so often. My fingernails delve into his beard, scratching at his strong jawline while I take an earlobe between my lips and suck on it. A low moan comes from deep inside Richard, 

“Ah dinnea ken what ta dae with ye wee nyaff” That Scottish brogue is going to be the death of me.

“Little Dick, not sure what you just called me, but if you don’t stop with the sexy Scottishness I’m gonna need some new shorts.”

The teasing continues throughout the day, while we lounge around waiting for it to get darker. The fact that it’s almost the longest day means sunset is not until 21:41. To be fair we could have given in at any point, going into the campervan and fucked behind a closed door, but where’s the fun in that?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard’s birthday continues into the evening, with wishes to be granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the next chapter of the Madderton fic.
> 
> A massive thank you must go to [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus) For the beta on this chapter but mostly her support, encouragement, inspiration. Please go and check out her stories, you will not be disappointed.

After dinner and birthday cake—complete with seven candles for the three and four of this age—the sun is finally setting, turning the sky a wonderful shade of pink. The picnic blanket is laid out beside the car, adorned with cushions and a large blanket to snuggle under. It’s orange, I always demand it’s orange while camping, always have done, it’s a quirk!

On the car stereo system Richard is playing a Spotify playlist he has created of songs that remind him of us. This hasn’t been thrown together over the last couple of days either, it’s been compiled over months and months. I am impressed, but also feeling a little guilty that it’s taken me so long to realise what Richard has obviously known for so long. Not going to dwell on this any longer as tonight is about granting that birthday wish. 

I settle down amongst the cushions as Richard lights a cigarette, leaning against the car. The air is still warm and the sky is clear, I watch as the stars start to come out one by one. Venus is so bright and low to the west—the goddess of love looking down on us tonight. 

I’m too busy identifying constellations to notice Richard joining me, having finished his cigarette. His arm snaking across my stomach makes my skin tingle, his breath on my ear as he whispers that he loves me. Peppermint mixed with tobacco is giving off that strong Richard aroma that evokes vivid memories of shooting the kissing scenes for Rocketman. Richard would always need a fag break beforehand, but would suck on Polo mints after. 

“Are you ready for the Birthday Fairy to grant you your wish?” I ask, turning to face Richard, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, my fingers in his hair, pulling him in for a minty kiss. 

“Uh-ha,” he gives a cheeky grin, that I can just see in the fading light. “But can I ask the Birthday Fairy for an additional wish?”

“Nooo, one wish only per birthday.” I smile, teasing him. “Them’s the rules.” I’d give this man anything, and he knows it. 

“In that case I’ll have to ask the Gay Gods for a favour,” he pauses for what seems like dramatic effect, or is that a glimmer of nerves? “Taron, would you fuck me?” 

“Hell yeah!” I whoop excitedly. The relief on Richard’s face is clear, and his magnificent smile has thankfully returned. I’m keen to try anything, but it’s become a thing that I’m automatically the bottom, and I just went with it. 

One final check for any onlookers—even the horses have moved to the far end of the field—we pull the blanket up to our chests and remove our shorts beneath. 

“Can I rim you?” I ask, excited to get the full experience. 

“Mmmmm,” Richard moans, “fuck, yes please!”

I kiss him once more before placing a cushion under his hips. Richard pulls his knees up to allow me access, the view is amazing, so intimate, yet open to me. I look up into Richard’s eyes and, even in the fading light, I see his most shy and vulnerable face looking back at me. I smile reassuringly, pumping both cocks a couple of times, before laying down, his ring centimetres from my face. 

I’ve always been a great lover of giving oral, and judging by the reviews I’ve received in the past I seem to be good at it. When asked to describe myself as a lover late last year, attentive, thorough and enthusiastic would ring true to any past recipient of oral sex from me. Only two of these however had been willing to try rimming, so my experience is mostly clit and pussy, but my tongue is keen on expanding its repertoire. 

With my tongue flat I lick from Richard’s tight hole, over his perineum to his balls, my eyes fixed on his the whole time. As I go for the second pass I watch as those blue spheres roll back before his lids flutter closed. The third time I spend more time lapping at his hole, alternating between flicks and semi circles, which causes his cock to jump several times. I smile to myself as I realise that if I keep the rhythm up relentlessly the cock continues to rise until it’s 90 degrees to Richard’s body with pre cum dropping from the top. As I hum my appreciation the vibration sends more juices from the slit, I flick once more at his hole before licking my way past his balls and up his shaft, removing all precum from the top, and then plunging down until his tip hits the back of my throat. I watch as Richard’s eyes open, his bottom lip pulled in by his teeth. 

“Oh Taron, so fucking good!” Richard’s lust-filled eyes watch me intently as I bob my mouth up and down his thick cock. When his breathing deepens I slowly remove him from my mouth and bring my body up his, kissing his pillow lips, my cock pressing at his hole. 

I grab the bottle of lube, dribbling plenty on my cock and his hole, inserting a finger past the muscles and beyond, bending in search of his prostate. A loud gasp indicates when I’ve found it, and I smile as I watch the changing expressions on the face of the man I love. 

The song through the speakers changes to a ballad and I immediately recognise it as a guilty pleasure of mine. I don’t recall telling Richard about this, so the fact that Duncan James is currently serenading us must be a coincidence. 

_ Every time our eyes meet _

_ This feeling inside me _

_ Is almost more than I can take _

I place my cock at his tight entrance, and wait for our eyes to meet before I proceed. 

_ Baby, when you touch me _

_ I can feel how much you love me _

_ And it just blows me away _

Richard’s sapphire eyes lock with mine, and the minutest of nods gives the permission I am waiting for. 

_ I've never been this close to anyone or anything _

_ I can hear your thoughts, I can see your dreams _

I apply the slightest of pressure on his hole and my cock slides gently past his tight muscles and inside him. The sensation is amazing. 

_ I don't know how you do what you do _

_ I'm so in love with you _

_ It just keeps getting better _

The tightness glides up my cock as I push myself deeper into the heat within him, slowly, so slowly, but it feels incredible. 

_ I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side _

_ Forever and ever _

My hands on his knees, his fingers entwined with mine, our thumbs rubbing reassurance to each other. Again our eyes lock, and I can tell Richard is as in touch with the words being sung as I am. We mouth the next two lines in unison. 

_ Every little thing that you do _

_ Baby, I'm amazed by you _

Cheesy grins abound, I feel tears threatening to form, such is my love for this man, as the second verse starts. 

_ The smell of your skin _

_ The taste of your kiss _

_ The way you whisper in the dark _

“Love you so much,” I whisper, my cock now fully inside Richard, the feeling is astonishing, like nothing I’ve ever experienced. 

_ Your hair all around me _

_ Baby, you surround me _

_ Touch every place in my heart _

I slowly move my hips back, my cock almost withdrawn before sliding back into Richard. I repeat this action, getting a little faster and harder—Richard‘s gasps a little louder each time. 

_ And it feels like the first time every time _

_ I want to spend the whole night in your eyes _

I take Richard’s cock into my hard, pumping it to the same rhythm as my thrusts. His breaths are getting short as his orgasm builds. Mine is not going to be far behind. 

_ I don't know how you do what you do  
_ _ I'm so in love with you... _

The second chorus starts, but neither Richard or I can concentrate on anything other than our impending orgasms, his hits first, white shooting onto his chest, as his muscles clench around my cock, and a string of profanities in a thick Scottish brogue spill from his mouth. 

One final deep thrust and I explode inside him, my climax hitting wave after wave until I can no longer support myself. I collapse on top of Richard, his arms wrap around me as we catch our breath together. 

Suddenly the music changes dramatically, from the soft ballad of Amazed, to one that demands our attention. The rhythmic drum beats, followed by Gary Barlow requesting that we ‘Get Ready For It’. We can’t help but laugh at this choice of song from the end credits of Kingsman: The Secret Service. 

We lay back peacefully, mesmerised by the number of stars piercing through the blackness, orange blanket wrapped around us, while a pair of owls call to each other nearby. The music in the car had been turned off after the Take That intrusions. 

“Richard?” I ask softly, not really wanting to break the silence, but a question has been niggling inside my head since he asked me to fuck him. I’m still not totally sure how to articulate what I want to say. I hear him acknowledge that he is listening. Shit I now need to actually put this into words. 

“Erm…Rich...erm” I stammer keeping my gaze skywards.  _ Shooting star! Taron, concentrate! _

“T, I know what you are so eloquently trying to ask.” He says kindly. “Why, after two days of topping, did I suddenly want to be fucked?”

“Yes,” I say shyly. A comforting hand brushes through my hair, to my ear. 

“I guess I am a versatile top,” Richard explains, “but my previous two partners were bottoms, so it’s been a while” he turns on his side and runs his fingers across my chest. “I loved you fucking me, and if you agree, I would very much like it to be part of our love-making occasionally.”

“Oh Richard, I’ve loved everything we have done so far. I’m in total agreement that we should include both ways as I enjoyed them equally. To express a preference would be like having to choose between Rosie and Mari.” I shake my head,  _ why the fuck am I thinking of my sisters at a time like this! _ Richard laughs. “Not just saved for Christmas and birthdays though.”

“Agreed” Richard hugs me across my chest. “Talking of birthdays, one last wish while there is half an hour left.” 

“Go on then,” I say rolling my eyes smiling.

“On your knees for me Duckie,” Richard demands, throwing the blanket from us. “I’m wishing to fuck you from behind!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A weekend in Aberystwyth where Taron comes out to his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. The next is ready and will be posted by the end of the week.  
> A massive thank you must go to [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus) For the beta on this chapter but mostly her support, encouragement, inspiration.

I wake to the sound of the large metallic kettle being filled. The pitch gets higher the fuller it becomes. The soft hiss of the gas as it comes out of the jets on the hob, the loud clicking sound of the piezo lighter, and the satisfying sound as the gas ignites. Am I dreaming of those summers in a caravan with my Mam? I force my eyes to open, propping myself up on my elbows so I can see into the kitchen area, where a bare-chested Richard is busy making tea. I smile to myself as the next best thing to being a preteen again is having this man in my life, half naked, and making me a cuppa. 

“Morning gorgeous,” Richard calls over when he notices that I am awake, “tea and a bacon butty?”

“Perfect, thanks babe,” I say as I stretch. 

I grab his T-shirt from the side of the bed and take it to him, enveloping him into a hug. 

“Do I have time for a shower?” I ask.

“If you’re quick,” he replies whilst putting on his T-shirt. 

  
I emerge five minutes later, towel-drying my hair, and I can see Richard setting up the table outside with tea, orange juice and a pile of bacon butties. I watch from the doorway for a while, before stepping out to hug him once more. 

“I never knew how sexy domestic Richard was,” I comment, breathing in his aroma. “Or how domestic sexy Richard can be!”

“Sit your arse down before this all gets cold,” he fusses, flicking me with the tea towel. 

We chat about the day to come while we eat. Today, we are moving on to Aberystwyth and staying with my family. 

“I’m going to go on ahead, if that’s OK?” Richard asks, his blue eyes watching me as he takes a sip from his mug. “I’d like to get your Ma something from the shop first. Should I get us some beers too? We finished the box last night.”

“Aww you don’t have to do that, Mam loves you anyway.” I laugh, Mam can get a bit fan-girly given that she watched Game of Thrones avidly, and never complains when the girls want to watch Cinderella  _ again!  _ She certainly squeed—a fan-girl noise, apparently—when she found out who would be playing my boyfriend in Rocketman. “Some Coronas would be good, and some limes, thanks.”

We clear away breakfast together and I start to stow away items for travelling while Richard takes a shower. I give Richard written directions in case the Sat Nav in the Jag fails again—although you can’t really go wrong by heading west and then south when you hit a big road.

I wave him off while I pack away the BBQ, stored in an outside locker that is part of the void underneath the bed: campervan storage is  _ very  _ clever. 

I pull away from the pitch slowly, making sure nothing has been left behind. Trevor, on his tractor, waves to me as he passes, mower poised to cut the grass ready for the full house of visitors due for the weekend. Once on the road I turn on the radio to have some music while I drive, John Denver sings to me as I head home. 

_ Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong.  _

I get goosebumps and a lump in my throat on hearing these words—they could not be more perfect. Aberystwyth will always be my home, no matter where in the world I am living, it’s where my heart is, and I think of it everyday. 

_ West Virginia, mountain mama, take me home, country roads  _

And now I’m thinking of Merlin singing these words in Kingsman 2, just before his untimely death, taking some bad guys with him. Mark will be sorely missed for the final installment of Kingsman.

Coming into Aberystwyth from the north always makes for the best views, driving along the coast road I come over the brow of a hill and there she is, spread out in front of me, my favourite view in the world, the bay curved round with the town laid out to the east. The smile on my face widens as one word enters my mind:  _ home _ . 

I pull into the lane that leads to the rear of my Mam’s garden, parking the campervan beside the garage. As I stroll along the path admiring the colourful flowers I notice my Mam sitting at the kitchen table, a mug in her hands. She hasn’t seen me yet, and I wonder how close I can get before she does. I was well practiced in this as a teen, often creeping in the house through the back door when I arrived home later than expected. The aim was always to make it to my room before being discovered. I know every creaky floorboard and stair in the house. 

I hear the front doorbell, Mam stands to go and answer it, leaving her mug on the table. I get to the back door hoping it’s not locked, it opens silently towards me and I step inside. The smells of home hit me—freshly baked bread, fabric softener and Mam’s perfume. I sigh as memories wash over me. 

I can hear Mam and Richard in the hallway greeting each other, Richard being his most charming, Mam giggling. I stand against the wall to hide my presence, my breathing slowed as I listen to their conversation. 

“Richard, these flowers are lovely, you really didn’t have to,” Mam is gushing. 

“Nonsense, Tina, I wanted to say thank you,” Richard replies, only Mam does not realise what he is thanking her for exactly. Not yet. 

“You are always welcome, you know that.” My Mam, always the perfect host. “Come through, can I make you a cuppa?”

“Mmm a coffee would be grand, thanks” Richard says stepping into the kitchen, immediately spotting me in the far corner. I put my finger to my lips as I watch Mam walking away from us to place the flowers—and a vase from the dresser— by the sink, switching the kettle on. Richard stands to block her view of me. “Oh Tina, the garden looks amazing at this time of year.” Very clever, Richard, diverting her attention to outside. 

“Oh that’s mostly Guy’s hard work and green fingers. Do you see my Welsh dragon statues over in the roses?” Mam points out to the left of the garden. “The big one is Taron and the two little ones are Rosie and Mari.” I can see the pride oozing out of every pore from her. I make my way across the kitchen behind them, keeping out of sight. 

“Beautiful, just like all three of them!” Richard professes. 

The kettle clicks off beside me. Mam is still gushing about the garden, so I get two mugs and the instant coffee. Once made I take them and stand beside Richard, silently handing him his drink. Mam is still busy talking about the Rhododendrons that have just finished, and the ceanothus that looked stunning last week, such a shame, and of course we are too early to see the crocosmia. 

Mam turns away from the window, and finally sees me standing beside Richard, smiling at her over my mug of coffee. Her face shows surprise, confusion, annoyance and delight all in the space of about two seconds. I put my mug down, opening my arms towards her. 

“Hello Mam!” 

“What the fuck, Taron! How? When? You!” She babbles and she rushes into my arms. Her hug is so tight, so familiar, I’ve missed her so much. 

“When I answered the door!” More a realisation then a question. She slaps me lightly on the arm playfully, stepping back to look at us both together. “Wait, something’s different.” She looks at us each in turn, her eyes scrutinising us, a slight frown, until a finger comes up to point. 

I brush the back of my hand against Richard’s, before taking hold of it, bringing it forward between us. 

“Yes, Mam,” I confirm, nodding. 

“Oh Taron, Richard,” she grabs both our arms, bringing us into a group hug, only to pull back slightly to look at us again. “Finally!”

The next three hours pass so quickly, mostly just sitting in the kitchen chatting and eating lunch, followed by Mam’s amazing bara brith. We discussed how we should tell my sisters about Richard and I, and if they were too young to comprehend what it is to be gay. 

Richard’s aired concern for our privacy, which is perfectly valid. But the school and this town have always been very respectful towards my private life—although this is bigger than anything they’ve had to deal with before. The problem will be in a couple of years when Rosie goes to secondary school, with a wider selection of friends, becoming teenagers, with social media influences and discovering our back catalogues of films and interviews—I cringe at the thought of her discovering some of those. Maybe by then we will want to come out publicly anyway, who knows. 

Soon it’s time for the girls to come home from school. While Mam goes to collect them, Richard loads the dishwasher and I put on some washing from the campervan.

The peace is shattered a second after the key is heard in the door, a stampede of feet across the wooden hallway floor, ignoring their mother calling “Shoes!” in their rush to see their big brother. 

I just have time to crouch down before being hit full on by both sisters at the same time. Four arms wrapped around my neck, my arms holding their waists as I stand, my first workout in days. 

They are both trying to tell me about their week simultaneously. A jumble of Welsh and English, which I try my best to answer in the appropriate language. I notice Richard and smile at the amazed look on his face. I place them back on the ground and look into their eyes.

“ _ Cariad _ , we have a guest, let’s speak in English, yes?” I request. “Look: Uncle Richard is here.”

They both turn to him and curtsey—they must have been scheming this for sometime. Rosie addresses Richard, “Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness,” while Mari goes in for a hug.

“Why it’s Princesses Rosie and Mari of Ceregideon,” Richard says in his Prince Kit RP voice “may I have this dance?”

The girls giggle excitedly as Richard picks the up in turn and spins them as he ‘dances’ around the kitchen table. 

When he puts them down Mam tells them to go upstairs to get changed out of their school uniform. As soon as they are at the top of the stairs, I kiss Richard and thank him. 

“Being Prince Charming comes with great responsibility, but it’s not often I get to dance with such beautiful young ladies.”

Once changed they insist we sit and watch Cinderella with them. I check if Mam needs any help with dinner, but she says to go and spend time with the girls. We all sit on the same three-seater sofa, Mari laying across me and Rosie cuddling Richard. I feel something different than I have ever done before, not only the joy of being home, or of spending time with my little sisters, I just can’t put my finger on it. 

The film finishes and, while Mari demonstrates her dancing to Richard, I go into the kitchen to check on dinner. My stepdad has just arrived home from work, and Mam is filling him in with our news—it’s only right he doesn’t hear at the same time as the girls. Guy hugs me tightly. 

“You’re too late mate, you’re not the only gay in the village!” he jokes, patting me on the back. 

“Shame, I was going to start wearing PVC and calling myself Daffyd,” I laugh.

Dinner is amazing, you can’t beat a home cooked meal, especially if it’s cooked by my Mam. As we tuck into our chicken and leek pie we chat about school, summer, and going to the beach. The school discos are coming up next week, so I ask them if they are going to slow dance with anyone. They both pull faces—the thought of slow dancing with anyone clearly does not appeal to either of them. 

“Do you know who I would slow dance with, apart from you two of course?” I ask, feeling more nervous than I look. “Uncle Richard... because he is my boyfriend.” I pause waiting for a response. 

“Well he is a good dancer, especially slow dances.” Mari reasons nonchalantly. 

“That’s true,” agrees Rosie. “Mam, what’s for pudding?”

And with that the subject is over, accepted, done. Richard takes my hand into his under the table and squeezes it gently. I look into his eyes and he smiles kindly and whispers “Simples.”

Pudding is actually Mam’s trifle, the one I made on Jamie Oliver’s show at Christmas. Richard has yet to experience this and I am excited to see if he likes it. Mam hasn’t put the alcohol in it this time, which she admits after Mari commenting that it tastes weird. Despite the lack of alcohol Richard enjoys as much as the rest of us. 

After we have finished eating and the dishwasher is full and switched on, we take a stroll down to the beach. It is a beautiful evening with the slightest breeze and a mackerel sky. We are skimming pebbles into the sea when Rosie stands beside me, obviously keen to ask a question. I sit on the stones beside her and she gets into my lap, watching me, looking grown-up all of a sudden. 

“Taron, when you and Uncle Richard get married,” Rosie asks, “which one of you will wear a dress?”

I laugh: that this is the first question she has after learning her brother is gay. 

“ _ Cariad _ , neither of us would wear a dress, but I think Uncle Richard would wear his kilt, as he is Scottish,” I answer, only just realising that fact myself. “I would probably wear a suit. Neither of us would be the bride, so no dresses for us.”

“Does that mean I wouldn’t be a bridesmaid?” Rosie asks, looking very concerned. It’s not something we have discussed before, but her best friend was recently a bridesmaid for her Auntie, so it’s a big topic of conversation with her friends. 

“Hmmm, I’m not sure of the correct terminology,” I admit to be confused, “maybe it’s  _ groomsmaid _ , but you and Mari will definitely be something when I get married.” All this talk of weddings is making me nervous—Richard and I have only been an item for, what, four days? I need to change the subject. “Shall we go for a paddle?”

After splashing about in the shallows with Richard and I for a while, Mam and Guy take the girls home to go to bed. Mam has checked with me the sleeping arrangements, so she can prepare the spare room if needed. We agreed that given the girls lack of reaction Richard would stay with me in my room, just like girlfriends had in the past without anyone batting an eyelid. 

“I’m so pleased for you darling,” Mam whispered, kissing me on the forehead. “He’s a lovely man, and gorgeous, no wonder you fell for him.”

Richard and I sit on the beach until the sun dips below the horizon, sinking into the sea. The clouds give a wonderfully colourful display. These are the sunsets of my youth, the ones I yearn for whenever I’m away. We stroll along the beach to the rocks at the end, where teenagers used to hang out in my day, smoking and kissing mainly, away from prying eyes. Weirdly there is no one else there, odd for a warm Friday evening in June. This is still a teenage hangout judging by the cigarette butts, beer bottles and used condoms scattered around—fucking disgusting. Maybe it’s still too light for the usual occupants to be there. 

“When in Rome!” Richard says, taking a ciggie from it’s packet.

“Kiss me first,” I say leaning up against a rock, just like I remember a girl saying to me here, probably 15 years ago. Thank goodness my kissing skills have improved since I was a teen—drunken kissing with teeth is never ok. 

“You bring me to the best places, so romantic,” Richard screws his nose up, but kisses me anyway. 

“Come on, let’s get out of this piss hole,” I suggest, the smell is getting unbearable, “fancy a pint on the way home?”

We walk to Rummers, a favourite pub of mine for many years. There are a few faces in there I recognise, but none from my group of mates. I’ve not announced my arrival into town yet, I am saving that until tomorrow. I see the look of recognition appearing on the faces of strangers, mostly at me—it’s not unusual to spot that bloke from Kingsman while in Aber—a baseball cap is not the best disguise if you are known for being someone that wears a baseball cap, and often visits family in town. I could be slightly more conspicuous if I was in a black and orange Adidas tracksuit, or the sequinned Dodgers outfit from Rocketman—the orange devil/angel suit would be just ridiculous!

Richard, however, with a cap pulled low covering his hair and eyes, could be anyone, but there seems to be a couple of astute punters in Rummers tonight. No one actually bothers us, other than a nod and smile in passing. 

After our second pint I can sense a group of lads have spotted us and after a lot of loud whispers seem to be coming over. 

“Need a piss mate, go out for a ciggie and I’ll see you out front,” I say to Richard, turning my back on the group. 

Splitting up seems to have confused them and neither of us get followed, or maybe they were not the trouble I thought they might be and they’ve gone back to their pints. 

I find Richard passing the time of day with the bouncer outside as he finishes his smoke. 

“Oh hi Taron, good to see you,” the bouncer says, politely. “My brother was in your year at school, Gareth Dalton?”

“Oh Gareth, yes I remember him, amazing at maths.” I shake the bouncers hand. 

“That’s right, accountant now he is.”

“Figures,” I laugh at my own cheesy pun. “What’s your name my friend?”

“I’m Dylan,” he says, as he reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out his phone. “Could I get a selfie ,please?”

“Sure, no problem Dylan,” I smile for the camera. “Pass on my regards to Gareth and the family.”  
  


Mam and Guy are still up when we get home, so I put the kettle on to make us all a cuppa. I walk into the lounge with a tray of mugs to find they are talking about me. 

“I want to thank you for bringing up such a wonderfully kind and beautiful person.” Richard is saying as I enter. “Well,  _ three  _ of them, actually: your wee bairns are amazing, too.”

“Oh, Richard, you are too kind,” Mam gushes, “but Taron could be a little shit sometimes. Still can.” She looks up at me and smiles, I flip her the finger and she sticks her tongue out. “So what are your plans for the weekend? Do you still want a roast on Sunday?”

“Spend the morning with the girls, lunch in town, meet up with some of the boys later, hopefully,” I reel off my ideal Saturday. “And Sunday lunch will be great, thanks: can’t come home without one of those. Then off again, around fiveish.”

“Sounds great. Lamb ok for Sunday?” Mam asks more to Richard as she knows that would always be my roast of choice. 

“Perfect, Tina, thank you” Richard says stroking my leg. 

Soon after we all hear our beds calling, so we head upstairs, hugging goodnight on the landing.

My childhood bedroom hasn’t changed much since I left for RADA. The posters came down the first time I brought a girlfriend home from London, but the mottled blue 90’s wallpaper and border still remains. Collages of photos of friends and family in large frames hide rips where blue tac has been. It looks dated rather than retro and needs gutting and redecorating. 

In bed, I hug Richard tightly as I think about the day. Coming out to my family was not as scary as I feared it would be. I always knew they would accept whichever version of me I needed to be, and love me regardless. They know and love Richard already, just like I have done for two years, even so the relief is most welcome. 

“Thank you for today.” I murmur sleepily. 

“My pleasure, darling.” Richard says with a kiss. 

“If we get married,” I ask gingerly, “please wear your kilt.”

“Try stopping me!” Richard replies. 

“Wouldn’t dare!” I smile as I drift off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reactions of Taron’s sisters in this story are based on my children who, at around the same age, learnt that my brother is gay, who subsequently got engagement and married. The terminology was all very new in 2015, educating the bridal industry about ‘Groomsmaid’ and refusing to sign a contract that included terms about ‘The Bridal Suite’ when there is no bride was a real thing for us all. 
> 
> I hope I did not offend anyone with these reactions, and these are obviously not supposed to be the true feelings of his sisters, just the closest I have to an example to draw on. 
> 
> Taron’s step-dads reaction is a quote from Little Britain. There an example of the character with Elton which is very funny check it out


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream, a call, a party, and a beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that this is an AU where CV19 does not exist and 2020 went ahead as planned, holidays, concerts, work commitments. Oh how we all wish that could have happened. You will see why I mention this now as you read, more notes at the end. 
> 
> A massive thank you as always to [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus) For the beta on this chapter. This chapter is full of little treats for her, because she deserves it after hearing going on about this story for over 5 months.

I wake up in a sweat, my dream so vivid I was convinced it was true. I was Eggsy in Valentine’s base with a knife at my throat. I could feel the coldness of the steel on my skin, and the pressure against my windpipe. I manage to turn my head slightly and instead of it being Charlie holding the knife it was Richard and he was in full highland dress, kilt, sporran, those long socks and garters, the works. He is whispering things to me that, instead of making me fear for my life, make me horny. His spare hand was snaking around my body, cupping my balls and stroking my semi through my suit.

Now fully awake, my erection is still present, my cock begging to be touched. I place my arm under the covers and grab myself, my forefinger runs across the top, precum seeping from the slit. 

I have my back to Richard, but I can tell he is asleep and laid on his back from his breathing. There is a small amount of light in the room, and I can hear some birdsong, but it must be close to dawn, a little after four am at a guess.

It’s no good, thinking about the time, nature outside the window or the light snoring from my partner has not lessened my need for a wank. But why do I feel so guilty? I turn over so I’m facing Richard. If I am looking at him as I jack myself off that’s ok, right? I try and shake all negative thoughts from my mind as I slowly pump myself, my cock getting harder with each stroke. 

I watch the rise and fall of Richard’s chest, the hairs that I know feel so soft to touch. The profile of his face, that jawline so strong, with stubble accentuating how rugged it is. His lips, slightly open, begging to be kissed. His nose is perfect in every way, not too wide or too long, just right, a Goldilocks of a nose. His long, dark eyelashes rest on the tops of his cheeks, stunning in their own right, but normally upstaged by the amazing bluest that is currently hiding behind those lids. His thick eyebrows set high above on his manly brow, frowning slightly in his sleep. His hair, thick dark and waves, the grey streak shimmering in the early daylight. 

My cock thrusts into my hand, hard and aching to come. I roll onto my back and bring my knees up, my movements getting more desperate as my climax builds. My lips let out a sigh louder than I intended, my eyes clench shut as my strokes intensifie. My breathing deepens and I bite down on my bottom lip, an attempt to curb my need to call out. 

I turn my head to get another look at Richard as I come, but instead of his profile I am met with a heavenly blueness of his eyes watching me. Not disapprovingly, more filled with love and possibly arousal too. My lids fall shut and my eyes and head roll back as my climax hits me, whispering profanities as my stomach is coated with my come. 

Upon opening my eyes again I am greeted with the kind of smirk on Richard’s face that I know from experience means trouble. I bite my lip in anticipation on how this will manifest itself. 

“Oh T really,” he chastises me, “wanking at dawn while I’m asleep.”

I am pretty sure Richard is joking, but this is the reaction that caused my reluctance in the first place, until my cock got too demanding to ignore. I open my mouth to defend myself, but I have nothing, so close it again. 

“Well, it’ll be a shame to waste that come,” he says as his hand meets mine on my stomach.”let me take that from you and then get on your knees for me.”

I do as I’m told, letting him scoop up the come in my hand and on my stomach before turning round on the bed and onto all fours. Richard’s fingers smooth my self made lube over my hole, two slipping inside of me with relative ease. 

“Good boy,” Richard whispers in my ear, his body laid over my back. My cock twitches at the praise and anticipation of receiving my punishment. 

After Thursday night, this has come to be my favourite position: it allows for Richard to be so deep inside me, and we had also agreed to some light spanking. The welcome addition of the mattress under my knees makes up for the less exciting location to being outside. 

“I need you to be quiet, you would want to wake anyone would you?” Richard asks and I shake my head, trying to slow my breathing. 

Richard applies more lube to his cock before plunging deep inside me in one swift movement. The speed takes my breath away, but the resulting feeling of fullness makes my senses tingle. My prostate is being rubbed perfectly and my cock is reacting despite its recent climax. A T-shirt is placed over one arse cheek—to muffle the sound—and spanked several times. Richard is whispering in my ear how he needs me to be a good boy for him. 

“Yes Daddy!” I utter before I realise what I’m saying in my sleepy but aroused state. 

Richard stalls for a second at this, then thrusts harder and deeper then before. I can hear him muttering behind me.  _ I’m not even four years older and he’s calling me Daddy  _ I think are the words I hear through gritted teeth, before he thrusts deep one last time, a low groan as his orgasm peaks, his cock jerking deep inside me. 

“Good boy,” and a gentle pat on the arse, before Richard pulls out and collapses on the bed beside me. 

I get up from and pad into the bathroom, the tiles cold on my feet. When I return after washing myself down Richard is sound asleep, so I place the damp cloth on the cabinet at his side of the bed. 

Sleep takes me soon after I climb back under the covers. The sound of seagulls landing on the roof of a campervan outside are no concern to us right now. 

Excited tapping on the bedroom door, and the not so hushed sounds of two sisters calling for their brother in the hallway awaken me. I slip from the bed and into my waiting shorts and T-shirt—I had anticipated this early call. I tap Richard and let him know I’m going downstairs to watch whichever DVD Rosie and Mari insist upon today. 

“Make us a coffee, I’ll be down after a shower.” A gruff and sleepy Richard calls out as he pulls the duvet over his head. 

When Richard finally makes it downstairs his coffee is lukewarm and we have already seen Johnny’s audition in the film Sing. My arms are wrapped around a sister on each side. Rosie has her fingers entwined in my hair, just like she has done since she was a baby when she is tired. Mari is sucking her thumb, also tired after going to bed too late last night. 

Richard makes another coffee for both of us, and a hot chocolate drink each for the girls and joins us on the sofa for what's left of the film. 

A game of Pictionary follows the film, Rosie’s drawing skills are impressive, she definitely has the creative gene that I benefited from. What Mari lacks in skills on the page she makes up for with dance and hand actions, which are not strictly allowed in this game, but I’m not going to stop her from trying to express herself in any way she desires. Richard is enjoying his morning as much as I am, even though I can tell he would rather still be sleeping.

For lunch, I have booked Richard and I a table at Medina, a Mediterranean restaurant in town. The food is amazing—and healthy too, so our trainers will be happy. Their salad bar is the best I’ve seen in Wales, if not the whole of the UK. 

“Wow, the best I have eaten outside LA,” Richard agrees. Los Angeles salads are exceptional. 

After totally stuffing our faces we go back to Mam’s to relax until the evening. 

I hear my phone as I turn off the water, the personalised ringtone tells me that I really do not want to miss this call.

“Sorry, Sharon, I was in the shower!” I say breathlessly when I finally get to answer the call on loudspeaker, the towel falling from my waist as I almost drop my phone. 

The laugh on the end of the line could only be that of Elton. “With Richard, I hope!” He laughs again, “I should have FaceTimed instead, Blodwyn: bet you look gorgeous wet, naked and freshly fucked.”

“I don’t know about that,” I answer coyly, my cheeks flushing pink. I fan myself with my hand. 

“Oh he is, Elton,” calls Richard following me out of the en-suite, “fucking gorgeous!” He kisses my head before picking up my towel for me. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” Elton says, and I can imagine the twinkle in his eye. “Actually, Richard, I’ve been thinking.”

“Always dangerous!” Both Richard and I say in unison.

“Fucking cheeky boys!” Elton chuckles. “Richard, I think it’s about time I give you your drag name.”

It’s Richard’s turn to start blushing, and I watch as he nibbles at the corner of his bottom lip. 

“What do you think of,” Elton pauses for dramatic effect, and I imagine him doing a silent drumroll. “Bonnie?”

“Amazing, perfect, thank you so much...  _ Sharon _ ,” Richard gushes, allowing himself to call Elton by his drag name for the first time. “I’m so honoured.” He bites down tightly on both lips now. 

“Wow Sharon, so perfect for him, thank you. Bonnie and Blodwyn, love it.” I smile as I hug Richard tightly. 

“No problem, glad you're both pleased.” Elton moves his mouth away from the phone and impatiently whispers, before coming back to talk to us, “Blodwyn, why I called, I was wondering, what’s your availability, like, in December?”

“Well, I’m waiting on a schedule from Matthew for Kingsman 3, but I think the second half of December will be free anyway.” I quickly reel off, wondering what this is about. 

“Good, so you will be available to come on stage at one of my London shows.” Not a question, more a statement of fact. “Thursday 17th, at the O2. I’m thinking ‘Someone Saved my Life Tonight’, and maybe a duet, too.”

“Wow OK,” I’m shocked as it will have been 14 months since the last time I performed with Elton, and to get to perform my favourite song. “Do I get to be George or Kiki?”

“Darling, you can be whoever you like, but we all know how cute your arse would look in Kiki’s dungarees.” He laughs as I roll my eyes—not fucking dungerees again. “Look, we’ll discuss more nearer the time, but I’ll let them know you’re up for it. Got to go, ladies, see you soon Bonnie and Blodwyn.”

With that he’s gone, leaving Richard and I sat in my bed, staring at each other in disbelief of the conversation we’ve just had. 

“Not a word to anyone about the O2,” I warn Richard, knowing how secretive Elton likes to be about these things, and how much of a gossip Richard can be to his GoT friends, who are far from discreet themselves. 

Richard motions a cross over his heart and puts his fingers to lips, which makes my heart melt for him. I could kiss and fuck him right here, but we are now running late for the BBQ tonight. 

  
Richard has met some of my friends before, those who came to Cannes, partied hard on the beach and on the boat. More came to the London premiere, and demonstrated their singing voices of varying quality, to various cast members throughout that evening. So he is well aware of their ability to drink, sing and have a good time. What he hasn’t experienced is seeing them on their home turf. 

Arriving an hour into the party, despite carrying a large box of beers, we are greeted with semi drunken insults all round. The fact that I (re)introduce Richard to them all—he’s never going to have to remember more than a couple of names from before, anyway—with my arm linked in his or my hand on his back, raises more then a few eyebrows. Fuck it, I just need to come out to them all in one go, not that it is going to surprise many of them—I think a few knew long before I allowed myself to believe in the possibility myself. 

“I know some of you have been trying to tell me this for years, and it won’t come as a surprise to anyone, but I have finally admitted to myself, and my family, that I am gay.” I take a deep breath as I look around the group, whose faces expressed the sentiments of my sister yesterday, not big news, what’s for pudding, or in their case, where’s my beer? No malice intended at all, just acceptance in the best way they know how. 

I turn to Richard to ask if I did OK, but I don’t need to as I can tell from his face that he is proud of me. 

We take a seat on the patio furniture, where two of my oldest—longstanding, Richard is possibly the oldest here—friends are sitting. 

Meghan was in my form at school, and I met her on my first day there after moving to Aber from Anglesey. We instantly hit it off due to a mutual love of David Bowie. She had a Ziggy Stardust sticker on her folder, and we got chatting about music. Joe was also from school, we were sat next to each other for most lessons, due to me starting part way through the year and him being last on the register. 

“Tagzy, honey, I am so pleased that you are finally able to be your true self,” Meghan says in her soft, kind voice. “I’ve only ever wanted for you to be happy.”

“Thanks, Megzy. Going to gay clubs with Joe and Jack in our teens always felt good, but no man ever made me feel like this one here.” I grab hold of Richard’s hand and squeeze it tightly, never wanting to let go. “Richard, this is Meghan, my first ever friend in Aber.” 

“Lovely to meet you Richard,” Meghan says after I introduce them. “I didn’t get to meet you with most of the others, having a two week old baby made it a little difficult to come to the premiere.” She smiles at me, “My Mam’s in her element looking after Carys tonight, it’s only my second evening off since having her, but when I heard you were coming I had to make it.”

“I’m so glad you did. I’ve missed you, Megzy,” I say, giving her a hug. ”Would love to meet your little one another time I’m home.”

“Oh, she’s a knockout,” chips in Joe, who lives close to Meghan, so sees her often. “Made me all broody when I held her the first time. And now she is waking and babbling, so cute.” He finds a photo of Carys on his phone to show us. “James and I have been looking into surrogacy to start a family of our own.” 

“Whose coat is that jacket?” interrupts James in his very Welsh way, as he comes to sit between Richard and his husband. 

“Oh, mine, sorry.” Richard replys slightly baffled, moving his signature black bomber jacket—which I told him he wouldn’t need.

“Taron, good on ya, but then when you’re made to kiss this fine specimen, umpteen times, what can you do?” James swoons slightly before mimicking our hand-hold with Joe. 

“I know, right, if anyone is going to turn me gay it’s gonna be Richard ‘Fucking’ Madden.” I laugh before drinking from my bottle of beer. 

I relax as conversations happen around me, Richard is accepted into my friends so easily, which I never had any doubts about. 

Meghan cuddles up to me later, her head on my shoulder as she drunkenly confides in me, not unlike she used to do back when we were teenagers.

“Tagzy, do you remember when we would watch The Mummy and The Mummy Returns back to back at least twice a month?” Her words slurring slightly due to not drinking recently, while being pregnant and breastfeeding. “I would be swooning over Brendan Fraser and you were getting turned on by Rachel Wise, Rise—whatever her name is.”

“I remember.” I say, stroking her hair absentminded. We would alternate whose house as we each had both films. 

“Well, I think that maybe you were actually admiring his body as much as I was. While I was wishing I was as pretty as her so you would fancy me.”

“Oh Megzy, you were, and still are, as pretty, more beautiful even, than Ms Weisz. But you were my best friend and I didn’t want anything to spoil that.” I can’t say that the thought of kissing Meghan never crossed my mind, but I pushed it away as she was more like a sister to me. “As for Brendan, I did admire his body but any other feelings I swept aside as just silly.”I think back thoughtfully to that time. “I think it was his blue eyes you may have caught me staring at. Not dissimilar to Richard’s actually, hmmm.”

“He is gorgeous—Richard, I mean. You have done good, for a boi from Aber.” Meghan finally looks up at me. “But tell him from me, that if he breaks your heart he has me to answer to.”

“Thanks honey, you’re da best.” 

Richard and I finally get home around 2am, having taken the long route back via the beach. We sat on the stones chatting and kissing, feeling like teenagers thanks to the amount of alcohol consumed. We share a cigarette before finally deciding that bed would be a much more comfortable place to be. 

Waking naturally at eleven I can smell the lamb already cooking. I feel bad that we have not helped, but knowing Mam she probably did all the vegetable preparation last night once the girls were in bed. I would like to say that I’ve spent many a Saturday night shelling peas with her while she peeled the carrots, but it would much more likely for me to be down the pub, or round a mates instead, and then waking in time to watch the gravy being made before consuming Mam’s amazing Sunday roast. 

After showering and packing all our stuff back into the campervan, it is almost time to sit up for lunch. Rosie and I get drinks poured for everyone, while Mari and Richard lay the table. Rhubarb crumble—cut fresh from the garden today—with custard is the perfect dessert, and it leaves us all stuffed. We retire to the living room where we are soon joined by my Auntie and cousins for a cup of tea and a chat. 

“Taron’s going to get married to Uncle Richard, but no one is going to wear a dress,” Mari informs everyone, “well, except me and Rosie.”

“Mari! That’s not what I said, is it?” I exclaim with embarrassment. I look at my Auntie to explain. “Richard and I have been an item for 6 days, we are not announcing our engagement at this stage.” 

“Oh Taron that’s lovely. I can see why too.” She was Mam’s partner in crime when it came to crushes on Rob Stark. It should feel odd knowing my Mam and Aunt had a crush on my boyfriend before I even met him, but it doesn’t. 

My cousin caught up with me in the hallway when I was on my way to the kitchen. He was obviously unsure of what he should and shouldn’t say in front of my little sisters, a fair point given Mari’s announcement. 

“Cuz, as long as you’re happy, mate, it doesn’t matter to me.” He smiles as he hugs me. “I would have thought you could have got a better looking one that that though.”

“Well, he'll do to start with.” I quip back as Richard steps into the hallway. “Besides, Andrew Scott was not available.” 

I wrap my arm around Richard’s waist and give him a squeeze. 

“We need to get going if we want to be set up before it’s dark.” I turn to my cousin, “good to see ya cuz. We’ll go out for a drink next time I’m home yeah.” I walk back into the living room, “Mam, Richard and I need to get on our way, bye all.” I wave to the room full of people. 

Mam and my sisters follow us out into the garden and to the campervan. I crouch down and hug the girls in turn. Saying goodbye is never easy, as they are growing up too quickly. I give Mam the biggest hug as always and thank her for everything. She truly is the best mother in the world. 

The drive down the coast doesn’t take as long as I remembered when Mam and I would arrive after stopping off in Aber to visit my Nan. Arriving at the field, however, was exactly as I remember it. The view of the sea is as idyllic as it ever was, and the smell, you can almost taste the salt in the air. It may only be forty miles down the coast, but the difference is astounding. The sand is the colour of vanilla ice cream and backed by grassy dunes, whereas in Aber the sand is more of a slate grey and backed by Victorian guest houses along the promenade. I wouldn’t change Aber for anything, it will always be the most fabulous place to me, but this field, with the memories it evokes and stunning views, comes a very close second. 

I park the campervan to face the sea, the panorama from the cab is breathtaking as the bay sweeps across the whole windscreen. The lane that runs between the field and the dunes is obscured by the hedges, the effect is lush green sweeping gradually to cream coloured sand and the blue of the sea beyond. The cliffs at each end of the bay, dark from their slate makeup, roll into green fields above, with a smattering of stone buildings dotted around, all positioned to enjoy their own unique view of this amazing place. 

Richard arrives soon after I finally pull myself away from staring out to sea, he’s clutching a bag of chips to share as he joins me to lean on the bonnet of the campervan. 

“Just wow, Taron!” he says, his face lighting up at the sights I have brought him to.

I am ecstatic that he can enjoy them with me, and that despite the madness of the past few years we both can still appreciate this kind of natural beauty. 

“I know!” is all I have to say as I hold his hand and stare with him some more. 

“I’ll get the rug and we can eat those on the beach?” I say, dropping his hand to rummage in the locker. The tradition of setting up and making tea fleetingly crosses my mind, but the chips are getting cold. Anyway this is Richard, not Mam, and we need to make our own memories, sequences and traditions. 

With the tartan rug under my arm and Richard’s hand in mine we walk down the field, across the lane, over the dunes to the edge of the sand, where we place the rug down and sit to enjoy the chunky chips—with plenty of salt and vinegar—that only ever come from UK fish and chip shops. 

There are a few families enjoying the last of the warmth of this Sunday afternoon, before having to return home, to work and school the next day. Children with buckets,spades and little fishing nets just like I would find in the cupboard of the caravan we stayed in. Fathers, looking a little more than sunkissed, digging deep holes in the sand and mothers in big floppy sun hats, reading magazines. The occasional dog would pass with their owners, chasing a ball, stick or frisbee. Normal lives happening around us as we sit and watch. 

Richard is sat cross-legged, back poker straight, like he’s in assembly at primary school, taking it all in. He turns his head to face me with the largest grin on his face, his eyes bluer than the sky on this perfect day. 

“Taron, promise me we can come back here every year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was due to see Elton at the O2 on 17th December 2020, but it has been postponed by 11 months. I booked this date as it was the last UK date of the leg, and I thought if anything special was to happen this would be the most likely date, one can dream. So that is why I picked that date for This Taron to be invited to join Elton on stage. 
> 
> Also this beach at the end does exist, it’s called Poppit Sands, St Dogmaels. I have been there many times.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Only an epilogue, to go.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue - Four years later - June 2024
> 
> Same campervan, same field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not betaed, so any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy!

I wake to the sound of the large metallic kettle being filled, the pitch getting higher the fuller it becomes. The soft hiss of the gas as it comes out of the jets on the hob, the loud clicking of the piezo lighter, and the satisfying sound as the gas ignites.

I look up and the skylight and notice stars against the darkness. In my sleepy state, I wonder why the kettle is on at this early hour. I slide out of bed, my feet touch the cold floor as I rub my eyes. 

I can see Richard sitting with his back to me, the dim light of his phone sat beside him. I stroke his back as I pass, heading for the kitchenette to prepare the mugs for when the water boils. I find the decaf tea bags in the cupboard, and take the milk from the fridge. 

The tone in the water changes—indicating the imminent boiling—I lower the gas so the whistle does not get a chance to sound, far too early for that. I take the two mugs of tea and join Richard at the dinette, placing them on the table. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you darling,” Richard whispers apologetically. 

“That’s OK, I’m happy to make you a cuppa, even if it is still dark,” I say smiling. “Especially on your birthday.” I kiss him, running my hand through his ever-widening grey streak, the salt and pepper effect throughout his hair suiting him, as the big four-O looms ever closer. 

As promised, whilst eating chips back in June 2020, we have come back to this same field every year, although work commitments haven’t always allowed for it to be in Richard’s birthday week. Just a few nights to relax, unwind, and be ourselves from our ever-evolving world, in a place has hardly changed in the thirty years since I first came here, and probably the thirty years prior to that. 

“I’m not sure why it has to be 3 am, I thought we managed to sort this weeks ago” Richard grumbles, looking at his phone.

“It’s because we’re away, it’s to be expected. Hopefully means we’ll get a lie-in” I say wistfully. 

“That would be nice. Do you hear that? We need a lie-in, please.”

We both look down at our perfect son, seven months old in his Father’s arms—finishing the bottle of formula he’s drinking—his sea-blue eyes slowly closing. The white of a tiny tooth threatening to emerge is the reason for the early wake-up call—teething the next in a long list of things we never thought we would be dealing with a few years ago. 

I finish my tea and take our son into my arms, rubbing his back to expel any wind. With a kiss on his forehead, I place him back into his travel cot, passing him his favourite toy, Wolfie. I watch for a moment, in awe of this small person who has brought so much joy into our lives, as he settles down to sleep—his arms in the surrender position, his bottom lip protruding slightly—before returning to the bed where Richard is already drifting off too. 

In a little under two years, our lives have changed so much. So many friends around us started having children—it seemed that month could not pass without a friend or family member announcing that they were expecting—and we knew that we would not let being a gay couple stand in the way of becoming parents. 

We started looking into the possibility of starting a family by joining Surrogacy UK—a surrogacy through friendship organisation that brings surrogates and intended parents together, so that friendships can form, leading to dreams coming true. Through them we met Emma and instantly clicked, she had never been a surrogate before but had friends who had become parents through Surrogacy UK. Seeing the joy that baby had brought, not only to the gay couple but their families and friends, lead Emma to finding out more as she wanted to help spread the love and joy she had witnessed. 

The ball was most definitely in Emma’s court, as the ratios of intended parents to potential surrogates are usually around five to one. We got to know her and her family—she is married with three children of her own—she loves being pregnant, but her family is complete. We were so excited when she chose us for what she calls ‘extreme babysitting’. Her husband is in full agreement—essential for a smooth running of all the legalities. It was not long ago that the surrogate and her husband's name would remain on the birth certificate for six months, despite the husband having no biological tie to the baby. Thankfully the law has recently changed after years of petitioning. 

Seven months after meeting Emma all the paperwork was completed and we could try for our pregnancy, which thankfully worked the first time. Richard and I were able to be there for all hospital appointments, scans, and of course the labour and water birth. This was the most amazing experience of our life, and Emma was a star. I cut the cord while Richard had first skin to skin contact. Together we discovered we had a son, and both burst into tears of joy. We named him Daniel Richard Dexter after Elton’s song and my first professional role, Grandpa, and our director friend. 

Emma and her family have remained friends and Daniel will grow up knowing his ‘Special Auntie’. He does not have a mother, however, he does have two doting fathers. Richard chooses to be called Pa and I’m Daddy, at least for now, Daniel may change this himself in time. With four Aunties—Richard and my sisters—two Grandmothers and three Grandfathers, Daniel has a family who loves and spoils him, and our friends adore him too. His smiles and cuteness spread love to whoever sees him. 

Taking our tiny bundle home from the hospital that first night was terrifying, just like any other new parents. However we got into a routine quite quickly, Daniel is an easy-going baby who feeds and sleeps well. We read all the books—our mothers would say too many—in hope that we would get everything right, however, babies tend to go off-piste just when you think you got it sussed. What never fails to amaze us is the unconditional love that we feel for this tiny human who is totally reliant on us for everything.

We agreed—in the very early stages, before even meeting Emma—that our work schedules should allow for at least one of us to be available to be the ‘stay at home’ parent. This sometimes involves joining the other Dad on location, usually if they’re going to be away for more than a week. We have so far managed to keep knowledge of our son out of the media too. Elton and David have been fabulous at helping out with this, and many other aspects of being famous parents. 

Cute baby gurgling noises, as Daniel ‘talks’ to Wolfie, wake me again. Thankfully it is light this time, my phone advising it’s seven-thirty—this constitutes a lie-in nowadays. I get Daniel from his cot and change his wet nappy before making up his bottle. I sit in the passenger seat of the cab, opening the blinds to look at the view while I feed him, stroking his soft downy hair. His eyelashes are so long and dark, framing the amazing blue eyes that he has inherited from his Pa. 

When it came to trying to conceive, mixing our sperm was not an option, and we have not told anyone which of the samples were used. However, you only need to look at Daniel to see he’s definitely more Madden than he is Egerton. If we do decide to try for a sibling—in a few years—then it will be my sample used. 

His bottle finished, I sit Daniel up against my chest and show him the view out of the window. I take a selfie of the two of us, his smile lighting up the screen when he sees himself. I’m telling him about going for a walk to the beach later when Pa gets up and looking for the fishes in the rock pools. He has no idea what I’m saying but acts interested anyway. 

“What was that about Pa getting up?” Richard’s voice behind me makes us both jump. 

“Daniel look, it’s Pa,” I swing round in the swivel chair to face him.”Say Happy Birthday Pa.” I lift Daniel up for Richard to take him from me.”Happy birthday darling.” I kiss his cheek as I squeeze past to put the kettle on. 

After presents are opened and breakfast is eaten, Richard dresses Daniel while I pack the bags for the day—going anywhere always requires multiple bags packed. The forecast is perfect for a trip on the beach with a baby—not too hot with a slight breeze—it’s exactly as predicted when we make our way down the field, across the lane, over the dunes and to the edge of the sand. The easy pop-up tent provides essential shade, and the tartan picnic blanket—thoroughly washed after some suspicious stains were spotted—is laid on the sand to sit on. 

It’s still early, and with children still in school on this Thursday morning, the beach is empty apart from a handful of dog walkers. 

Richard takes Daniel out of the Palouse he has strapped to his chest and lies him down on the blanket. This is the first time I have seen our son properly since Richard dressed him, and I bite my tongue when I see the ridiculously expensive Gucci tracksuit—a gift from the Furnish-Johns if memory serves—definitely not appropriate beachwear for a seven-month-old.

While Richard is rummaging in one of the bags I take my opportunity to start to strip the clothes from our son. Even the trainers and socks are Gucci, it’s like he’s been dressed as Elton! I shake my head as I try to fathom what possessed Richard to even pack such an outfit for a few days in a field, let alone dress a baby in it for the beach. I’m not going to bring it up now though, not on Richard’s birthday. 

With Daniel stripped down to just his vest and T-shirt I consider leaving him like that, but as the dribble on his chin is about to hit the one hundred pound item of clothing I whip it off and wipe him with a muslin in one swift movement. 

It’s only after I folded all the removed garments do I look down at our son, kicking happily on his back in just a vest, which I don’t recognise. 

The white cotton vest has some writing on it that I can’t make out, I look around for where I have put my glasses down. Daniel giggles as I tickle his chubby little legs—the best sound in the world. I look again at the writing. It says:

“DADDY, WILL YOU MARRY MY PA?”

I read it through twice, looking up at Richard, who’s on one knee in front of me, a ring box in his hand. He sweeps Daniel up with his other arm and closes the gap between us, both their faces looking at me expectantly. 

My eyes glaze over so I can no longer see anything other than outlines. The love in my heart swells so much it actually hurts. 

As a single tear falls down my cheek, the only thing I can manage to say is “Yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone that has commented or given kudos thank you. Your support has given me the drive I needed to keep going on the longest thing I have ever written. 
> 
> A massive thank you must go to [heavensfallingaroundus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus) Not only for all her support, encouragement, inspiration. I have decided to dedicate this whole fic to her. Without her friendship, this story would have fallen by the wayside so many times. Whenever she posted the latest installment of something she has written, it gave me the kick up the arse I needed to get going with my writing. 
> 
> Please go and check out her stories, you will not be disappointed. 
> 
> Love you C. 
> 
> I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this story. It’s been a huge learning curve and a labour of love. 
> 
> My childhood was spent with summers in a static caravan, and then moved onto a touring one when I met my husband to be. Welly booted seagulls are really a thing, and effective at waking you up early. 
> 
> My love of the seaside has also influenced this story, and the beach that features throughout is Poppit Sands I have visited many times. The field in the first and last episodes are set is an actual place, and I have always wanted to stay there and to have the beach that close when you wake up. 
> 
> I have come to realise that writing this story is as much about my love for Taron and Richard as it is my acceptance of the choices of my brother and a TV presenter that was my teenage crush, and who came out as gay the same week as I started writing in February. 
> 
> The surrogacy parts are because my own nephew was born this way, giving me a chance to be an Auntie finally. The laws I mentioned have not yet changed in the UK, but fingers crossed will do very soon, as my brother and his husband were not named on their son’s birth certificate until the courts agreed at six months old. 
> 
> If you want to find me I’m am on Tumblr as channellingmyinnerelton. Please come and find me if you want to chat.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you are enjoying this, please leave kudos and comments.


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